An Answered Prayer
by surlymermaid
Summary: A broken hearted Phantom, is forced to live on the streets of Paris with only a ring to remind him of the events that passed. But a chance encounter with a thief leads him to a life after Christine, whether he likes it or not. M for language and content
1. Chapter I: To Catch a Thief

It had been a month since he had sent the Opera house up in flames and brought the chandelier crashing down, shattering it into millions of pieces. A month since he watched as his beloved Christine fought for her beloved Raoul. A month since he had released her, since he lost the battle for her love. But the truth of it all was that it had felt like it had been more like a year ago that this all happened instead of just a few weeks. The days seemed to drag on for eternity.

He had nothing but the clothes on his back and a hooded cape to disguise his face. He had a few francs left, but not enough to even buy him a proper meal. It had been days since he had had a real meal. And most recently, he had to resort to sleeping in the alleys of the streets, or in cellars of abandoned buildings. But never the same place twice.

Everyone was looking for him, everyone. If he didn't gather a plan soon, there was no doubt in his mind that they would eventually catch him. But it seemed like there was a part of him that wanted to be caught that wanted to be thrown in jail. That was the part of him that had replaced the love he had for Christine. The love she had taken with her. In that place where his love for her once dwelled, there was now bitterness, emptiness; a hollow shell. Why? He would constantly ask himself. Why did he keep on living even though there was nothing left inside him? Why live?

"For the music," a woman seemed to answer his internal dilemma. He turned around to find the voices' origin. But once located, his heart sank.

"I thought we could start with a crescendo into a powerful rhythm from the percussion section, and then they would decrescendo to piano, and then the strings would come to life," A woman said to her female friend as they sat together at a small cafe'.

"That does sound interesting; you should write it down, Beatrice!" A small red headed woman smiled and clapped. I must be losing my mind! He thought. He felt his stomach growl. It felt like it was on the verge of eating itself. He suddenly found what the women were eating to be interesting than their conversation. He drooled when he saw the redheaded woman take a bite of her piping hot croissant. His legs became weak when the portly woman opposite the redhead stuffed a cream filled croissant into her mouth, the cream gushing out.

He licked his lips and grasped onto the side of the building to keep from collapsing. He had to look away, he had to! But it looked so delicious, it was so hard to resist! Then something knocked him out of his daydream of food and back to reality. A hard knock on the shoulder, making him stumble.

"Sorry, Monsieur," A young man said over his shoulder and continued walking. Instinctively, Erik's hand went to his pocket. He had kept the engagement ring as a memento in his pocket. But when he felt around, it wasn't there. Where had it gone? Wait...that young man that had bumped into him! He must have picked his pocket and taken the rest of his francs and found the ring. Where was he? Erik looked around him, finally spotting the boy only a few blocks ahead. He was just about to call for help when he remembered he was the most wanted man in Paris right now, making it futile. I guess I'll have to do what I do best. He thought to himself, and slowly disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

I hit the jackpot! Lee thought quietly, smiling a wide grin and laughing in delight! But something didn't feel right. There was no way that the rings owner wouldn't pursue this precious trinket. I couldn't let my guard down, Lee told himself. He would have to be cautious, very cautious! He took a quick peak over his shoulder then turned the corner quickly. He hadn't seen anything, but his instincts told him that someone was watching him, following him. Once around the corner he turned into an alleyway were a wooden fence guarded the houses from unexpected and unwanted visitors.

The sound of his own footsteps on the wet stone ground made her realize how deselect it was outside. He had hardly seen anyone today, excluding that poor sap that she pick pocketed. But he couldn't complain. The profit made up for the lack of customers...

Swiftly, he hopped the fence to the other street and quickly made his way around the corner and over another fence, finding himself in the yard of a small Brothel.

"Hey, Lee," a girl smiled and waved as he walked past. He gave her a smile in return.

"Bonjour, Lee," the grounds keeper tipped his hat.

"Morning, Monsieur Delvaux. Is Madame Cornette in yet?" Lee asked.

"Oui, she's in the parlor," the groundskeeper jerked his head towards the house.

"Thanks, Monsieur Delvaux. See you around." Lee smiled again to the elderly man and jogged excitedly into the house. Lee found Madame Cornette in the parlor lounging on the couch, sipping a glass of wine, and counting money. She only looked up for a moment, briefly acknowledging his entrance.

"Bonjour, Lee. And what have you brought to me this gloriously gloomy afternoon?" She took a sip of her wine. Lee stuffed his hand into his pocket and dug for the ring. He held it in his hand and slowly extended it towards her. When she looked up at what he had, Madame Cornette's eyes widened and she nearly dropped her glass.

"Mon Dieu!" She exclaimed. "What poor sap did you farm that off of?" She asked, gently picking up the ring and holding it to the light, inspecting it ever so carefully, lust sparkling in her eyes.

"Just some guy on the street," he said quickly, impatiently waiting to know if it was real or not. Minutes passed without words as she slowly examined the ring. She looked at every stone, every inch of the band, everything. Lee couldn't wait any longer, he had to know.

"Is it real?" His voice piercing the silence greatly startled the woman. She took a quick breath to compose herself before answering.

"Yes, oh yes. It most certainly is real." She stared at the ring, turning it slowly in her hand. It was as if she had become hypnotized by it.

"How much do you think I can get for it?'' The eagerness in his voice rising.

"At least 100 francs I would think," she almost began to drool at the thought. Lee knew that she wanted the ring for herself, but she wasn't going to get it this time, no sir! He was going to get 100 pounds for it.

"Good! Then I'll go and sell it first thing tomorrow and bring your cut the day there after." He snatched the ring and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Fine," she huffed a little. "But this time I'll require 50 percent of the earnings." Lee stopped in his tracks. He didn't want to have this fight and had wished she wouldn't bring it up. She always wanted more and when he gave into her greed, he would suffer greatly for it. He had people to feed, things that needed to be fixed. He needed to make a living and her greedy tendencies made it a more difficult task than it needed to be.

"No deal," He shook his head. "That's more than you received last time, I will not give you more than 30 percent, same as always. I need to make a living too, Jacqueline. You know that."

"Fine, I want 35 then," she crossed her arms in defiance. This was most certainly her final offer.

"Deal, I'll have the money for you the day after tomorrow," he turned to leave when she cleared her throat. She was not finished.

"I just want to remind you, Lee," she said his name with a bit of disgust. "I helped you through a tough time in your life; I also protect you from the authorities and from living on the streets. So, for now on, show a bit of gratitude!" He said nothing, only bowed and bid her good day.

"Remember, if you don't fulfill your commission, you'll be working for me." He nodded and walked out of the house.

He had entered the house with confidence, but left with panic and despair. I will never work there, never ever! He silently promised himself. The small attempt to calm his fear ended up feeding it and making his heart ache. He leaped over the gate again. The rain began picking up once more, but now adding wind and lightning to the mix. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday. What he wouldn't do for a piece of cheese, some bread, and wine right now?

He raced down the alley and into the street turning left towards the bakers. He passed a couple of fruit stands along the way and snatched an apple or two, without the vender, or anyone else for that matter, noticing. He must have been getting better, that or today was her lucky day. As he entered the bakery, the store's fragrances splashed over his senses. Ah, so fresh. he thought to himself, his stomach growling in agreement.

"One loaf, fresh out of the oven, if you please," he smiled at the baker, who signaled to his employee for the fresh bread.

"Nice to see you, Lee, how are things?" The baker made small conversation while waiting for the loaf.

"Fine, fine, yourself?" He politely responded, though not really caring. He was wrapped up completely in the smells that surrounded him in the bakery. Everything smelled unbelievable, almost magical. Lee's eyes washed over all the baked goods, drooling a little. Golden croissants, round begets, and a few freshly baked pies lined the display. There was enough here to feed an entire theatre!

"Good, here ya go." The baker handed him the bread. "That'll be 2 francs." Lee pulled out the money he had also lifted from the gentlemen, 10 francs, hardly enough for a whole meal.

"Thanks, have a nice day," he exited the bakery and decided it was high time he headed home.

Down two blocks, two lefts, a right, down the alley, over a few fences, and into a decrepit and abandoned hotel. He climbed two flights of stairs and walked down to the very last room in the hallway and knocked on the door.

"Pierre, open up, it's Arie," the door opened a crack first, and then a small boy emerged from behind it, a big grin on his face.

"Arie!" He jumped up and down and clapped. "What have you brought us today?" His grin widened; Lee handed him the loaf of bread and the remaining francs. The boy squealed in delight at what he had been given. A shuffling came from inside the room.

"Heavens above, Pierre, what are you so excited about?" An elderly woman crept to the door and peered out.

"Evening, Sabine," she smiled at Lee and then looked down at what Pierre was holding.

"My!" She exclaimed and held a hand to her heart. "Child, where ever did you find the money for that?" She asked Lee.

"That's not important, just take it, I know that you've been running low on food, and I thought I'd help out." A tear came to the old woman's eye and she embraced him.

"Thank you so much, Lee, you're so good to us, thank the lord!" She let go and chased Pierre back into the room, slowly making her way in as well. Before she closed the door, she turned and gave him another warm smile of gratitude. Lee felt a smile cross him as well.

"No problem," he whispered to himself and continued up the stairs to the top floor. Entering his room. Slowly, Lee pulled off his wet jacket and threw it on the floor, doing the same for his muddy boots.

A giant hole resided in the wall, covered by a sheet. He walked up to it, and pulled the sheet aside to look out over Paris and the increasing darkness of night's approach. For what had seemed like hours, Lee stood there looking out over the giant city and the sky, dreaming of acceptance and a much easier life. Finally, he walked over to his old couch and flopped onto it; pulling out one of the apples he had stolen and taking a large bite. While he chewed, he looked at the ceiling and filtered through his thoughts.

He tried to sleep that night, but something kept him awake, like someone was watching him. At one point in the night he thought he had heard something move, but looked into the shadows and found nothing but darkness, just like his life.

"Ah, shit," he said to himself. "What am I going to do with me?"

* * *

I began writing this story last summer as a small attempt at trying my hand at fanfics. I didn't think I would get very far and I thought that I would become bored with it and move on, but once I started I couldn't stop! I realized how much I actually cared about my character's story and how much I really wanted to develop it. I really got the inspiration for this story from reading all the different POTO fan fics about the Phantom and Christine and because I'm a big fan of the movie, book, and musical. I am not, however, a Christine/Phantom fan. I don't really believe that there should be a life for them together outside the Opera house, so I decided to make my own version of Erik's life after Christine has moved on.

This is my first upload and I hope you enjoyed it! I understand if you feel it's a bit slow! I would have to agree. But I've learned that it's better to start off slow and educate your reader rather than start off at fifty miles an hour and expect them to keep up. I promise more in the next chapter! It actually might be posted in the next few days since all I need to do is edit it.

Constructive Criticism is totally welcome and encouraged! I would very much like to know how I can improve my writing. It's greatly appreciated!

Thanks for reading,

Luce, your Surly Mermaid!


	2. Chapter II: Mistaken Identity

Erik followed the young man all day. He studied this thief, carefully. He had witnessed the conversation between the woman and the thief he had learned was Lee, at the Brothel. He had heard the woman threatening him. He had watched as Lee swiped a few apples, but paid for the loaf of bread with Erik's money. He had seen Lee give the bread to the elderly woman and young boy, along with the rest of the francs. What was he playing at? Erik thought to himself. He had watched Lee gaze over the city and night sky for nearly an hour like he was looking for something. Erik watched him even more closely as the thief left the decrepit hotel he called home, and headed down to the market.

Erik lost his train of thought when he laid his eyes on what seemed like miles and miles of food lined up along the sidewalks. He knew it would come to this, stealing food to survive. He did his best to walk as quickly as possible past the produce stands, like Lee did yesterday. He casually let his hand dangle at his side and then grabbed an apple from the end of the stand.

He quickly hid it inside his cloak and continued to follow Lee who was doing the same, only he was taking money, along with food. Lee made it almost look like an art form. He was so graceful and light with his touch and step, almost as if it were a ballet. Erik became so entranced by him that he lost focus for a second and ran into one of Lee's victims, his hand accidentally sliding into the man's coat pocket. The man saw this and didn't hesitate to make others aware by sounding an alarm.

"Help, this man is trying to mug me, somebody help!" He hollered to everyone around him. It seemed like everyone stopped to look at Erik. It was over; they would recognize me once they pulled down my hood, Erik thought to himself. People were shouting at him. Shop owners were making their way over to attack him. Erik looked around for his prey, but had lost him. He whipped his head around and looked for an escape but saw none. His heart raced and he began to panic a little, but then suddenly something grabbed his hand and yanked Erik through the crowd of people and around the corner into the alley.

"I'll not have you taken credit for my work, understand that." A familiar voice shouted. It took a second to register who it had been. Then it became clear to him. It was Lee. Police ran after them. They shouted at them, tell them to stop and come back. But they never stopped. Lee pulled Erik through a maze of alleyways and over dozens of fences, only stopping for a brief second to catch a breath. He looked over at Erik and smiled a little.

"Sorry about all this!" He extended his hand out. "I'm Lee, the person who actually stole that man's wallet." He hesitantly took Lee's hand and nodded, being ever so cautious.

"Nice to meet you, now how do we get out of this mess?" I asked hoarsely. Footsteps came from nearly every direction. Lee stood up and looked around, and then smiled coyly.

"This way," he pointed and led the way through the alley to a shop with a dusty cellar window. He found a rock and chucked it at the window, making a small hole through it. He kicked the rest of the glass out with his foot and slid in. Erik followed, but unfortunately, his shirt got caught and a piece of glass cut deep into his side. He bit down on his tongue to keep himself from yelping in pain.

Once inside the cellar, they hid in the shadows, and listened as the police's footsteps passed by the window, their shouts echoing down the alleyway. Lee let out a sigh of relief, but it was all too soon as the cellar door slammed open, and a shout came from the top of the stairs.

"Who's there? Come out and show yourself!" A man screamed, trudging loudly down the steps. Lee calmed his breathing, but Erik couldn't, the pain in his side was stabbing at him. He could feel the blood running down his waist. Lee covered my mouth with his hand, trying to muffle the sound of his heavy breathing. Their heart beats were almost in sync with one another, the adrenaline flowing fast. Lee turned his head and looked at Erik, removing his hand.

"I'll distract him, and on the count of three I want you to head back out through the window and run, got it?" Lee whispered. Erik nodded in response. Something inside him didn't feel it was right to leave this petty thief, who had robbed him, behind, but the pain in his side told him to leave the bastard and not look back.

"One, two," his voice became low. "Three!" Lee yelled and ran further into the basement knocking over boxes and wood.

"There you are!" The man yelled and ran towards the sound, a knife in his hand. Taking his chance, Erik ran for the window, getting out without injury this time. He was just about to run when a cry of pain escaped from the basement, a few cries actually. Something inside Erik just wouldn't let go; instead, he waited by the broken window. A few minutes past until someone began to emerge from the window. It was Lee, he was grasping onto the side, trying to pull himself out. Erik crouched down and helped heave him out. Lee stood and brushed off his pants and looked at him.

"Thanks," he smiled, and then raised his eyebrows when he saw blood dripping down Erik's side. "Shit!" He huffed and grabbed at Erik's arm.

"Come on; let's get you out of here before they come back." Lee put the wounded man's arm around his neck and they trekked the 17 God awful blocks back to the decrepit hotel, and then up several flights of stairs to the top. Erik was lightheaded and pale by the time they entered Lee's room and he laid him onto the musty old couch. Lee threw off his jacket and picked up a bowl of water and a rag. He knelt down by Erik's side, near his wound.

"Can you take off your cloak for me?" Lee's voice was unnaturally soft, thought Erik. Well at least not very masculine. A tinge of panic ran through him; he couldn't reveal himself to this petty thief! But wait, hadn't he touched and felt my face and my scars in the cellar? Erik pondered. Instead of forcing it off, Lee merely nodded his head in acceptance that he would not.

"Alright, then sit up." Lee ordered. Erik did ask he asked slowly. He pushed back the side of Erik's cloak and pulled the tucked shirt up high enough to see the wound ordering Erik to hold it there. A sharp pain ran through his side. He slowly pulled out the piece of glass that was sticking out of the wound. Erik opened his eyes long enough to look down at what Lee was doing, but caught a much more interesting sight.

In all the confusion and rush of things, Lee's shirt had come undone a little, and tuffs of hair were sprouting out from under his hat. And down his shirt, well, need more be said? But his eyes shot closed in pain once more as he finished removing the glass and threw it into the bowl. He or she dabbed the wound with a wet rag, trying to clot the blood. She grabbed Erik's hand, which made his eyes shoot open and look at the cut.

"I need you to keep putting pressure on this," she looked up into his eyes, serious. He couldn't help but notice now, that Lee's face now looked more feminine than masculine, her voice too. Why hadn't I noticed this before? Thought Erik.

He nodded and she ran to a case on a rotting armoire and came back with a needle, thread, and a candle. His eyes widened a little when they found the needle. She threaded it and then placed the needle over the flame of the candle for a minute.

"I'm going to need to close up the wound, or else it could get worse, okay?" She didn't know it, but she was looking straight into his eyes.

"Just do it!" Erik couldn't help but yell at her. She grabbed the hand grasping onto the rag against my wound and slowly moved it away. He looked away as she inserted the needle through his skin. I didn't yet yell or holler, he clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, his nails digging into the arm of the couch. He breathed heavily through his nose. The pain felt like it lasted for hours. There was a quick tug at the thread then, nothing.

"Alright, I'm finished." She put the wet rag against the cut again, cleaning it up. She didn't look at him, only cleaned up the mess and then disappeared into another room. Erik pushed himself up a little but quickly stopped when it felt like his side was going to split in half. As if on cue, Lee came running into the room, linen bandages in hand.

"Don't move, you'll tear the thread!" She/he grabbed Erik's arm to stop him. He quickly ripped his arm away from her. She jerked her head back in surprise but shook it off. But Erik wasn't finished, he wanted answers.

"Who the hell are you?" He felt his nostrils flair and he stood, towering over her/him.

"I should ask you the same question!" She yelled back, challenging him, something he wasn't particularly used to since...her...Christine, but no! That was the past, this is the present! He struggled with himself internally. Erik brought himself back to reality and aggressively ripped her hat off; a mound of raven hair falling onto her shoulders and chest.

"You're the thief that stole my ring!" He grabbed Lee's arm and yanked at her. Little did he know, she was not like the women he'd been acquainted with in during his lifetime. With her other arm, Lee socked Erik hard in the jaw and in the stomach. The hit came with quite a forcing blow that it sent him stumbling backwards a few steps.

"How dare you touch me?" She growls. "I'm not some common whore you can easily over power!" She stomps up to Erik, her head barely reaching his shoulders, yet even though she looks up at him, Erik felt like she was looking down on him.

"How dare you steal my ring?" He tries to act like he has the upper hand, even though he knew he didn't. "You have no idea who I am, what I can do to you!" He challenges her.

"What you can _try _and do. Seeing as you're injured, I don't really think you could do much!" She smirks.

"Give me my ring, wench!" He puts his hooded face close to hers, accepting her challenge. She elbows him and begins to head for the door. Erik grabs her wrist and yanks her back.

"Give it back!" Erik snarls at her. She takes her other hand and punches him again, only this time it sends both of them back. Erik grasps his stomach. She lets out a quick yelp of pain and falls to the floor. He notices that the hand she hit him with is wrapped up, and then remembering that he heard two different yelps in the cellar. She must've punched the man and broken her hand.

"Shit! Ah, son of a bitch!" She's on her knees, grasping her hand into her stomach. This was his chance to get at her, but once he stood his legs wouldn't hold his weight and he fell to the floor. His body is weak from the loss of blood and the lack of food. Erik knew he was now at her mercy. But instead of taking another swipe at him she simply stood up and with her uninjured hand and dug into her pocket pulling out the ring.

"Fine, take it," she threw it at him. He picked it up and made a fist around it. Memories of Christine flooded his mind. Pain wrapped around his heart like a python, squeezing the life out of him. He yelled out in anger and slammed his fist to the floor. His breath was heavy, filled with anger. He thought keeping the ring would remind him of the love he felt for her, the good times. But slowly he began to realize that she had brought nothing but pain to him, that there were no happy memories.

He pulled himself up, grasping onto the arm of the chair for support. Slowly he made his way to the door. But before he left, he turned to the woman that had caused him so much trouble the last few days; the woman that had also helped him when he was in trouble, a complete stranger.

"Thank you, mademoiselle, for your help." And he walked out and closed the door behind him. He had made it only a few steps down before he heard the door open.

"She's not worth it," he turned to find her leaning against the door frame.

"How would you know?" He spit, his temper rising a little.

"She's not worth it if she's causing you all that pain," her words blunt and obvious. Erik looked away for a second, not wanting to face the truth.

"I'm very sorry for all the pain I've caused you, mademoiselle. Good day." He went down a few more steps before his legs fell to pieces underneath him. He heard her chuckle a little and slowly making her way down the steps, sitting down when she reached him.

"You're not going to get very far with that cut and as far as I can tell, without any food in your system."

"What are you implying?" He didn't look at her, he wouldn't.

"Well, do you need a place to stay?" He wanted badly to say no to her, but she was right, he wouldn't even make it another step down the stairs, plus he was hungry, God was he hungry.

"I'm taking that silence as a 'yes'," she wrapped his arm around her neck and guided him back up the stairs into her room, plopping him on the couch. She turned around and pulled something out of a coat pocket and threw it to him. It was an apple. He didn't eat it, no; that wasn't at all the way to describe it, he attacked it, taking large, fierce bites. It took him less than a minute to finish it.

"Jesus, slow down!" She gawked at him. "No one's going to take it from you!" She sat down next to him and lifted his shirt where it was covering the wound. She began to wrap a linen bandage slowly around him. While he watched her, Erik got a chance to take a good long look at her. She must not have been taller than 5'4", maybe smaller; she was in her twenties, mid most likely. A little round on the bottom and in the hips and thighs, but still, she was very pretty.

When she was finished, she got up and tended to her own injury. She dabbed the cut in her hand with a wet rag and gently wrapped it up. The hand was swollen and bruised along with cut. She must have broken it when she punched him. It's no wonder, she may be a girl, but she hits like a fully grown man, he thought to himself.

Erik felt his eyelids become heavy and he lay back on the couch, slowly drifting off to sleep.


	3. Chapter III: Hurricane Arie

He awoke to pounding on the door. His thief stirred as well and ran to the door, tripping over a shoe and landing on her broken hand. But she didn't even notice, she picked herself right up and swung open the door. It was the small elderly woman from the other day. He had forgotten that she lived here too.

"Sabine," she exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"Arie, come quickly, Pierre is gone!" The old woman was sobbing, grasping at her heart. Before the old woman could even finish her sentence, Lee/Arie shot out the door and down the stairs. Erik whipped the blanket off of him and ran after her.

She was three stories down already and only running faster. She turned onto a landing six floors down and raced towards the end of the hall.

"Pierre? Pierre? Where are you?" She screamed down the hallway. Erik followed close behind, trying to figure out what was going on. A flash of moonlight hit Lee's face as she raced past a window., that's when Erik saw complete horror that covered her face.

"Arie? Nanna? I'm scared!" A meek voice came from outside. Lee ran to a window and peered out. Two large men were holding him, dragging him from the building.

"No," she said quietly to herself then raced again down the stairs.

"What's going on?" Erik asked her while he tried to keep up. She didn't respond, but instead once she reached the second floor, she headed to the balcony leading to the main floor and leapt off it. Erik's eyes widened in astonishment as she landed intact and without stumbling. Wow, she had some skill on her, he thought. When he looked over the railing, he saw her racing out the front doors onto the street. When he finally made it outside, he found her just standing there yelling his name.

"Pierre!" She had hollered over and over, but never getting an answer back, only an echo. The chilled air just added to the unbearable silence that came from the streets. Lee let out another scream, this time one, it was one of anger. He came behind her and put a hand on her shoulder for comfort.

"This isn't over," he had heard her whisper to herself. What had she meant? He pondered. She growled again and ran back inside. Erik looked on into the distance, trying to figure where the men had gone, but when he saw only darkness, he headed back inside. He paced himself, until he heard what sounded like a hurricane inside. There was no real storm, but there was very much the wrath of one. Lee had been throwing things on the floor in frustration and was trashing the entire hall. She took a candle stick and hurled it at a mirror, shattering it. A painful memory came back to him, reminding him of his painful time with her, with Christine. He let her behavior continue for another minute, just standing there, observing her destruction. Then, when she picked up a glass vase, he interfered.

"I think that's good," he grabbed it from her hands. Her shoulders sank in defeat and she sank to the floor. He found a place next to her. She buried her head in her knees and sighed deeply. After a few minutes, she looked up at the mess she had created, and let out another deep sigh.

"Thank you for stopping me," was all she said before heading back up the stairs to her room. He couldn't help but feel completely helpless and confused.

She slammed the door to her room and began to pace. How could I have let this happen? She screamed at herself inside. How could I not see this coming? Now it was her fault Pierre had been kidnapped, now she'll have nothing to do but give into the kidnappers demands, which could be more than just handing over the ring, which she no longer had.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She pounded her fist against the wall, leaning her head on it as well. "God! Think before you do something Arabelle!" She scolded herself.

"So, is that your real name, or just one of your many aliases?" Her head whipped to the open door. There he stood, the man whose ring she'd lifted. She glared at him and began to dig through the pockets of all her pants, looking for something.

"Look, maybe you should explain this all to me," he closed the door and sat on the moldy couch, like a gentlemen. She looked up at him, baffled, and at a loss for words. She just stared down at him, not being able to help but wonder what lay under the fabric of his cloak. She had had the chance to fulfill her curiosity when he fell asleep, but for some reason, she didn't. Not thinking it was right, knowing it wasn't right. But then it struck her. He had not explained anything to her either. She didn't even know his name.

"Why should I? I mean, you seem to know so much about me since you stalked me yesterday and the day before," she snorted. "I mean, you haven't even so much as told me your name." Her eyebrows arched for a second. She had found what she was looking for, a her cigarettes.

"Besides," she went on, looking matches. "Don't you have a fiancée to return to?" He stood and snarled at her, even if she couldn't see it, she knew he was.

"I advise you to hold your tongue," he pointed a finger at her. She smirked.

"Go fuck yourself, monsieur." She curtseyed and walked up to a large mirror on an old wooden armoire. She spotted the lighter on top of the armoire and was just about to light up when a scream erupted.

"Sabine," Arabelle ran downstairs and into Pierre and Sabine's living quarters. There she found a hunched over Sabine, her hand on her chest, tears running down her face. In her other hand she held a piece of paper.

"Oh Pierre! Oh Lord!" She sobbed. Arabelle knelt down beside her and comforted her. Erik had followed her down and was just staring at them. She took the paper from Sabine's hands and asked Erik to read it.

"Bring the ring to the Opera Populaire along with 500 francs by midnight on Sunday. If these requests are not met, or if you do not come alone or at all, the boy will die. Sincerely X." Sabine's howls increased in number and volume. Arabelle just embraced her and rocked her, hushing her and trying to calm her.

"We'll get him back, I promise," Arabelle hugged her tighter, promising Sabine and herself. "I will bring him back." She pushed away tears of her own. It took an hour to calm Sabine down and leave the room. When they left the room, she started heading down the hall and pulled a key ring out of her pocket and unlocked a room door.

"What are you doing?" He asked her. She just opened the door and led him in.

"If you are going to stay here, you can take this room." She said flatly. He stepped in and looked at his surroundings. There was a queen sized bed, old and musty. An armoire with a dusty mirror, and a curtain covered window.

"Thank you," he barely said above a whisper. She nodded and left him there, heading back to her own room. She had three days to get the money, but what about the ring? It was for his fiancée, she couldn't take it from him. So what was she going to do? And how the hell did she always get herself in these situations? Arabelle leaned against the door and let out a large sigh.

"Fuck, I have no idea," she pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and sat against the door.

* * *

Things really heated up this chapter! Lot's of drama is in store for these two down the road!

From here on out, I'm probably going to be updating frequently! Mostly because I wrote a giant portion of this last summer and all I have to do is edit the chapters. So I guess that's good news for those who are liking the story so far. I promise that there is a lot more drama, action, romance, sarcasm, and heart wrenching moments to come! I'll probably get the next chapter up in the next few days. Read and Review, rest and relax! haha!

Until next time,

Luce, your Surly Mermaid!


	4. Chapter IV: Fallen Angel

**This chapter is for my friend who told me that the story seems to be moving slowly, I hope this is an improvement! :)**

He just stood there in the dark, staring at his deformed face searching for something. He didn't know what exactly he was looking for, perhaps a way to escape the pain he felt over the loss of Christine. But his hood was down and he was staring at his reflection, at his naked and deformed face- the face that was the source of all his pain. God did he hate it! What he wouldn't give to have a different face, one that was free of any scares or burns or anything unnatural. He lied down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling for hours, waiting to be whisked away by fatigue and imagination. But alas, never did he close his eyes and sleep. His thoughts raced in his mind, unable to calm them.

When the sun rose, he dressed in fresh clothes he had found in the dresser drawers and put on his cloak and walked to Lee/Arie's room. He knocked several times, but there was no answer. He tried the door knob, he was surprised to find that it turned and he entered the room. But there was no one there. He called for her several times and even checked the other doors in her quarters, nothing, completely barren of life. But in all his searching for her, he came upon something rather interesting, actually. Numerous posters and flyers for various operas lay all over the floor and on the walls. The only one he recognized was a poster for the famous French opera, Carmen. Something else caught his eye. He noticed a similarity between all of them; they all starred someone named...Alessandro Rodolfo

"Aless...alice..hand...ro Row…doll..fo," he attempted to pronounce the name out loud but failed miserably.

"Rodolfo, Alessandro Rodolfo." Erik turned around to find Lee/Arie standing in the doorway. She was looking almost nostalgically at the posters, picking up each one that had fallen to the floor and stacking them neatly.

"Who's that?" Erik asked, curious about her obsession.

"He was one of the greatest opera singers in the world," she said as if just passing out a fact. There was one poster in particular that she picked up and just stared at, not wanting to take her eyes away. He peered over her shoulder.

"_La Traviata_, very much the greatest performance he ever gave, also my favorite." She smiled quietly to herself. Something in her smile just added more questions to his brain. It was as if she was remembering a fond memory.

"So were you obsessed with him, an avid admirer or what?" He asked looking at the other posters on the walls.

"He used to say that his greatest inspiration came from his biggest fan and the person who held the most room in his heart." This time her smile was weak, you could even say it was sad.

"When he told people this, they would ask who he meant. He'd simply tell them it was the little angel that answered all of his prayers." She hung the _La Traviata_ poser on the wall and ran a hand over his painted face; a small tear ran down her face. Erik watched her intently, seeing a deep love for this man through her eyes, a great love that he would never experienced, but also seeing a great loss which he had.

"Alessandro Rodalfo was my father," she said meekly. "Alfredo Germont in _La Traviata_ was his final and greatest performance, the one I'll never forget for as long as I live." Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"What happened to him?" He asked quietly.

"A few weeks before opening night for _La Traviata_, he became very ill. For many weeks, he laid in bed, coughing. But ever the dedicated singer, and not wanting to disappoint his greatest fan, he continued practicing and preparing for the Opera. When opening night came, he performed. He poured his heart and soul, along with every last bit of life and energy left in him, into his performance. His performance so powerful and so deeply passionate, that it blew away even those who had hated the Opera. It was easily my favorite.

"At the very end, when he came out, people threw roses and flowers of all types on stage. He picked up a yellow one and walked down the stage and handed it to me, kissing me on the cheek and hugging me tightly." Her eyes were glazed over with unshed tears. The worst of the story had yet to come.

"At the party after the performance, he walked around in a bit of a limp. His face was pale, his head was sweating, and his touch was cold. He collapsed on his way home," she choked on this last statement, grabbing her throat.

"The doctors told me that he died of pneumonia and that his heart simply stopped." Her voice cracked and a few more tears fell.

"The morning after, the house was cleaned out and I was moved to an orphanage. But before I left, someone stopped by the house, seeking me out. The man handed something to me, a program from the opera. There was an inscription on the back. It read, 'To the little angel that answered my prayers, it's all for you. Happy Birthday.' They told me it was in his coat pocket when they found him. He must have planned to put it on my pillow that night when he returned home, but died before he could deliver it." A hand covered her mouth as she recalled her most painful memory. Erik had once thought that the pain he felt could never be matched, but it was then that he realized he had found his match and even a new champion.

"When did he die?" He couldn't help but ask, wanting to know how long she had lived with her loss.

"Sixteen years ago next month," she wiped away her tears and pulled herself together. "I was barely nine years old, merely a child."

"Oh," was all he could manage. She cleared her throat and found a timid smile and led him out of the room.

"Now, what were you doing in here?" She cocked an eyebrow, and then headed over to the couch which was filled with boxes and bags.

"What's all this?" He said astonished at the mere number of them all.

"Don't change the subject," she opened a box to reveal a pair of elegant shoes, women's clothing, etc.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night." His mind went over last night's events again, the way she had reacted to Pierre's kidnapping. The mess she had made in the front room; Sabine's sobs.

"Why would you want to talk about something that doesn't involve you?"

"But it does concern me, they want my ring," her shoulders dropped.

"So?" Her response was weak, making it obvious she had thought about this.

"They're ransoming Pierre for my ring, I'm pretty sure that qualifies as being involved," he said impatiently. She spun around and faced him, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter, they're not getting it, or anything for that matter." Her lie was so terrible that she even winced while saying it.

"Aren't you going to ask me to give it up to save Pierre's life?" She smirked.

"I was actually going to steal it from you," she was so blunt and honest that it sort of blew him away.

"What?"

"I _was_ until this morning,"

"What happened this morning?" He became suspicious and walked even closer to her.

"Who are you?" She seemed to try to change the subject.

"Answer the question," his temper rising a little. "Don't try and change the subject."

"I wasn't, it has to do with this morning," she glared a little and smirked at him. He clenched his fists, annoyed.

"Just a poor, broken hearted man," he chose his words carefully.

"I'll say, and one hell of an Opera singer." He froze, what was she getting at? What did she know?

"What are you talking about?" He backed up a little; she took a step towards him.

"That ring looked almost too familiar at first," she smiled a sly grin and took another step towards him, he took another back.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sure you are mistaken," he swallowed a little and stood his ground. She took another step to him, reached up, and pulled down his hood. His bare face hit the harsh light, he cringed and waited for a scream of horror, he even closed his eyes, not wanting to see her reaction. After several seconds, he felt a hand touch his deformed face. He opened his eyes and saw she was looking straight at him, not even a flash of horror. She wasn't frightened at all; she just gently felt the scars and burns and looked into his eyes.

"She must have truly wounded you," she looked deeper within him. "Your eyes hold great sorrow and emptiness. I'm truly sorry." He felt so confused.

"Aren't you frightened by me?" He asked with a furious growl. "Doesn't looking at this horrify you?" He points to his face. She just smiles.

"The only thing about you that scares me is the fact that you can't fist fight for shit," he lets out a laugh that makes her smile even wider.

"Besides, you're more afraid of you than I could ever be," she withdrew her hand, but he caught it and held it up to his face once more and leaned against it, closing his eyes to remember every touch he felt.

"How do you know all this?" He asked her quietly.

"Because I was there that night," she stepped even closer to him, nearly pressing against his chest. "I saw the pain and anguish in your face when you fled the opera house." He opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked back at him with so much kindness and understanding, something he had not seen for a very, very long time. He couldn't deny that he was drawn to her, but he didn't want to admit it, fearing she may not feel the same and afraid he may let go of Christine.

"Erik," he whispered sweetly to her. "My name is Erik." She smiled a little.

"Nice to meet you," she stepped away and shook his hand then turned back to the boxes and bags. He felt a shiver of embarrassment and quickly pulled the hood back up, covering his face.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Wooo! Chapter 4 is done! Chapter 5 will be here next Saturday! I'm going to be releasing chapters on a weekly basis, up until chapter eleven which hasn't been written... Anyways. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, especially since things started to heat up a little! I don't do fluff though, I just thought I should mention that! Anyways, please review, I love to hear what I could improve on! Thanks again!**

**Luce, your Surly Mermaid (now that I think about it...I'm not actually that surly...huh...)**


	5. Chapter V: La Traviata

Digging into the past hurt, she wasn't going to deny it. For so long she had put those memories to rest, hidden them away in that room. It felt like the wounds had reopened. The past sixteen years flashed in front of her like a moving picture.

After her father's death, she had been taken to an orphanage. She spent nearly two years there. It was hell on earth. They treated you like dirt, gave you rotten food, and made you sleep on the hard floor. You had two sets of clothing that were washed once a week. They tore easy and had plenty of holes in them. No one ever came to adopt her and at one point, she became so fed up with it that she just ran away, making a life of her own. That's when she came to the Scarlet Pavilion, where she met the head mistress, where she most definitely sealed her fate, where she became Lee.

The mistress struck a deal with her, she could live in the house if she cleaned, and then on her eighteenth birthday, she would work as a courtesan. Of course she had been naive, thinking it would be just like in _La Traviata_, she would meet the man of her dreams and live happily ever after, minus her dying of Tuberculoses. But Arabelle would learn the price you pay for playing such a roll, the pain. In six months, she would learn the ugly truth about the job of a courtesan; learn its real meaning- a whore, a slut, and temptress. Someone who was only worth what a man could pay for her.

She endured six full months of this; endured six months of disgusting, old, horny men. Three months of beatings and cuts from cheapskate customers trying to skip out on their fee. Six months of feeling worthless, dirty, and disgraceful. It wasn't until the end of the six month that a drunken man had gotten too rough and was beating her, slapping, hitting and slicing her with a knife, that she had finally decided to fight back. She ended up nearly killing that man, but with no guilt or remorse inside her. The mistress had seen the anger in her eyes and decided to strike a new deal with her. If she could earn a certain amount of money each month, she wouldn't have to work in the Pavilion. Arabelle had taken it, and for nearly eight years it had been like this. She pick pocketed, stole, etc. She sold everything she lifted just to ensure her freedom. It was nothing but petty thievery, doing it just to get by.

But lately, Madame had been demanding that she earn more money each month. It soon became clear that this had not gone her way and that she wanted Arabelle working in the house. But no matter what she had asked for, Arabelle had always gotten it for her, staying up until dawn working, making sure she would never have to work there again, ever. She would rather die. She wasn't one to give up, a very stubborn person she had always been. Never giving up, not letting anyone stand in her way.

Fear was slowly rising inside her, though. The fear that this month, she would not make her quota and that she would have to go back to the Pavilion, working as a by-the-hour common house whore. No! She told herself. You are better than that; you'll think of something. She reassured herself. A knock came from the door. Her stomach dropped. She had a feeling it wasn't an admirer, or her buyer. She found the woman she had just been thinking about on the other side of the door, Madame Cornette.

"Good morning, Lee." She had a sly grin on her face. "I've come to collect my earnings." She never hesitated to get to the point. Arabelle felt her heart sink; she hadn't a cent to give her.

"Bonjour, Madame Cornett," her voice quivered. "I'm afraid I have not gotten the chance to look for a buyer for the ring." A small smirk came across her face and she invited herself into the room.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," she took small steps in and spun slowly, taking the whole place in. Every second her smirk grew, until it eventually turned into a grin.

"I will have your money by Monday afternoon." Arabelle looked quickly around the room for Erik, but he had vanished. Her heart was racing, she didn't like being watched, and she always knew when she was. Goosebumps formed on her arms, the hair on her neck stood on end.

"I'm afraid that is not early enough," she faced Arabelle and slowly walked towards her. "Sunday is the last day in the month, and you are far from your quota." She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"If you could just extend it one day, and I can get your money and a hundred francs more," she'd never backed out on her word, something her father taught her to do.

"I'm afraid a deal's a deal," Madame Cornette just shook her head and gave a fake frown.

"Please, Madame," Arabelle asked sternly. "I've never asked for you to extend the deadline before. My payments have always been on time. I'm just asking you to give me an extra twelve hours, that's it, not even a full day."

"I'm sorry but no, I will not extend the deadline," she was getting annoyed.

"But-" Arabelle tried again.

"No!" She yelled. "You either show up by Sunday with the money or the ring," she stepped closer to Arabelle, their noses almost touching. "And if you show up with neither, I'll expect to see you Monday morning, your bags in hand, ready to work at the house, understand?" She hissed. Arabelle bit her tongue and nodded in response.

"Good day then," she walked out, slamming the door. Arabelle waited until she couldn't hear Madame's footsteps before screaming her lungs out.

"God DAMNIT!" She picked up a box and threw it across the room, the contents of it spilling all over the floor. "Son of a bitch!" She screamed again. She couldn't breathe; the walls were caving in on her. She ran out the door to a latter that went to the roof and climbed up to the breaking dawn. The wind whipped through her hair as she reached the top. She climbed onto the surface and watched the sun rise. She took a deep breath, completely filling her lungs with air. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes, trying to push her fears away. She felt torn inside. How can she save Pierre and herself? She didn't even have to think about it for a second. The answer was clear as day. She couldn't. The end of the month was Sunday, and if she didn't get the money to Madame before midnight that night, she would be moving in the next day.

"It's over," she fell to her knees in defeat. "She's finally won."

"What exactly do you have to do if you don't get her the money?" Erik sat down beside her and looked to the sky, his face expressionless.

"What do you think? She runs a whore house," Arabelle noticed that his jaw clenched ever so slightly and for only a brief second.

"So, you'll be a courtesan?" He looked at her now; she lied on her back looking up at the orange sky, a dry and sarcastic laugh escaping from her throat.

"That's just a fancy way of saying whore," she emphasized _whore_.

"Are you scared of becoming tainted?" He looked down at her.

"I've worked for her before," she didn't meet his eyes, she didn't want to. "Just thinking about going back makes me want to vomit."

"Why would you work there in the first place?" His gaze turned towards the sky again.

"Because I had no place to live, no money, and nothing to eat," she sighed. "And she seemed to genuinely care for me. It's too bad that I was too naive back then to mistake her caring for me as a person, rather than an asset she could use to her advantage."

"How old were you?"

"When I first came upon Madame, I was fourteen. Back then, I cleaned up after the girls." She frowned to herself. "I was the one that asked if I could work as a courtesan." She saw the look on his face, one of shock and confusion.

"I wanted to be like Violetta in _La Traviata_. I thought that it would be just like in the opera, but I soon discovered that is was nothing like it."

"How long did you work as one?" He wouldn't even say the word, or any like it.

"Six months, until some asshole got rough with me and started beating me." He clenched his jaw again, this time he didn't release it. "I fought back and nearly killed him." She attempted another dry laugh. He didn't even smile.

"I made it known that any man that tried and touch me would not see the next morning."

"You sure made me regret it," he rubbed his jaw a little. She let out a laugh. He let a half smile cross his face. But then lost it after a second of thought

"You know that you will no longer be worth anything to a wealthy man or possibly any man." He looked at her judgmentally. She lost her smile, trading it for a hard glare.

"Enlighten me," she challenged him to go on, which he did.

"They'll see you've been tainted, they'll think you nothing but a common whore and toss you aside," he said matter of fact. "You'll be nothing but a toy to them. You'd be completely worthless." She stood up and looked down at him.

"You would be the one to know worthless when you see it, being so yourself." Her voice was steady; her words ice cold, and her glare piercing. She walked backwards to the edge of the building, turned, and jumped off, completely unafraid; the metal balcony beneath her rattled as she landed onto it with full force. She ground her teeth; his words were poking at her, clawing at her insides. They were so...so...true. It hurt deeply. She leaped over the balcony onto another two floors down. She continued this pattern until she landed on the stone pavement of the alleyway, and then simply walked towards the street, just trying away from him. Slowly making her way to Notre Dame, the only place she found complete peace, the only place where she could get answers, the only place she could talk to her dad.

* * *

**A/N: WOOO! Chapter 5! We're starting to really get the feel of Arabelle's past now! And things are gonna heat up! Be prepared! Be very prepared! Chapter 6 is coming next Saturday or Sunday, or maybe even Friday! The day depends on A. How I'm feeling and B. Whether I'm busy or not! I hate waiting as much as you! In fact, it drives me crazy! But it's worth it! I promise and hope you think so! Until next week! **

**I'm also currently working on another fan fic. Lose Yourself is a Gargoyles fan fic filled with action, thrills, murder, and death! Wait...murder and death are sort of the same thing... It's going to be a crime drama and it's coming soon! Look for it mid to late September!**

**Please Read and Review! Thanks :)**

**Luce, Your Surly Mermaid!**


	6. Chapter VI: Sanctuary

He knew he had to do it; he had to push her away. It wasn't his fight, he didn't want it. He wouldn't have anything to do with it or her. She knew too much. Besides, all he could think of was Christine, his only love. He would have no one else! It was her or nobody. He had to get away from Lee before it was too late. When she jumped off the edge, he knew she wasn't going to plummet to her death; she wouldn't give up that easily. But if one of the balconies on the side gave, she would die. He thought to himself, panicking a little.

"No!" He roared. Who cares if she did? The only reason he's here in the first place is because she stole his ring, and now, to get the rest of the money she had stashed. 500 francs was just enough to get out of Paris. Yes, that's all he wanted. Besides, that was impossible, plus, she knew what she was doing, didn't she?

He climbed down the ladder and proceeded to his room. Upon reaching his floor, he saw that Sabine's door was open, light spilling out of it. When he passed it, he found the room was completely torn apart. Without even thinking he rushed into the room.

"Madame?" He asked with a tinge of fear. The sofa in the room was shredded. A chest was turned upside down, the contents all over the floor. It didn't look like someone had forced their way in, almost as if they were invited. He opened another door and found the mattress in pieces, feathers everywhere, wood chopped to pieces. A small groan came from under the pile. Erik quickly dug through the mess, tossing things aside to get to the bottom. He found the old woman wheezing and coughing, blood staining her dress. She had been stabbed in the stomach.

"Madame, what happened?" He inspected the wound. Sabine had lost a lot of blood. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him for a second. Then they widened as she slowly remembered the events that had occurred.

"Please, monsieur," she grasped onto his cloak. "You must protect her, she's in grave danger! Please!" She pled, tears streaming down her face.

"She must not go after Pierre! Do you hear me?" He couldn't answer her.

"Promise me," she pulled him close, her voice hoarse. "Promise me, you won't let anyone hurt her, especially herself." Large tears were dropping from her eyes. He didn't answer. She began to panic.

"Please," her eyes slowly began to close. She let go of his cloak and slowly lied back. Then she was gone. He just stared at her, his mind not being able to process what had just occurred. Sabine was scared that Arabelle was going to hurt herself or get hurt, but he still just didn't understand. But something in his gut pushed him to fulfill the old woman's dying wish.

"I promise," he whispered quietly to her. "I promise."

"I hope you're listening, because I truly need your help." The church was empty except for her. The sun penetrated the stained glass windows, the magnificent rose window reflected on the altar. It was the closest feeling to home there was for her.

"Please," her folded hands lay against the back of the pew in front of her. She rested her head on them and closed her eyes.

"I miss you so much." A small tear ran down her cheek and landed on the stone floor. She looked at the small stain the tear made and wondered how many people had sat here and done the same. How many tears had stained this floor? People like me, maybe? She wondered.

"If you stop searching for the answer and wait, I'm sure it will come to you." A soft voice came next to her. A warm voice that she had listened to for so many years, she looked up and saw a smiling face staring at her.

"Father Klouse," she stood and he greeted her with a warm hug. "You always seem to know when I need help." She smiled when the embrace was broken and invited him to sit next to her.

"What seems to be the matter?" He looked at her with concern while she looked at her shoes.

"Next Tuesday will be sixteen years since his death," she cringed a little.

"Arabelle, I have known you since you were no more than twelve and that's long enough for me to be able to tell when you are not telling the whole truth," he sighed and gave her a half smile.

"I made some very stupid mistakes when I was young. And now, years later, not only I, but those closest to me are paying for them." She hung her head in shame. Father Klouse placed his hand lovingly on hers, trying to comfort her and ease her fears.

"You must accept what you did and ask for forgiveness,"

"But I have, many times," she protested.

"Not just God's forgiveness, but your own." He waited for her to respond, but she was silent.

"You must forgive yourself." He looked up at the windows. "God only forgives when you forgive yourself. You must confront your past mistakes and forgive yourself for them or-" he cut himself off, she looked straight at him, sorrow in her eyes.

"Or what?" She asked him, her eyes glazed with tears.

"Or you'll never be able to escape them; they will always haunt you. They can destroy you." He patted her hand and looked at her with concern.

"What you do does not matter to God. Being able to forgive yourself for them is what truly matters to Him. Your forgiveness is His forgiveness." He smiled at her.

"Thank you, Father." She gave him a weak smile. He squeezed her hand a little then stood to return to his work.

"I'm always here for you, my dear. I always have been." He gave her one last smile and then walked towards a woman waiting to take confession. She walked to the door and opened it a crack before looking back at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to herself. "I just can't." He caught her gaze, sorrow filling his expression. He didn't need to hear her to know what she had said, what she was thinking. She knew this as well but turned and walked out, not wanting any further guidance.

When she entered the church, it had been nearly noon. But when she left, the sky was a mix of violet, a soft pink and orange. She heard the bells of the church ringing. She had spent nearly the entire day there, looking for a way to ease the weight on her chest. But the weight had only felt like it increased by the time she left.

"I miss you so much." She said silently to her father. Arabelle began her stroll back to the hotel, this time she took the straightway, not wanting to dawdle or be wandering around at night, especially since she hadn't bothered to hide herself today. A woman walking around Paris alone at night was like painting a red target on your head. She knew this, but had not experienced it. One of her old friends had learned this the hard way and was nearly raped. She walked a steady pace; trying to avoid allies she didn't know well.

Arabelle managed to make it back to the hotel right when the last of the sunlight faded. But when she entered the building, something didn't feel right. Slowly, she walked up the stairs, carefully inspecting everything. When she came to Sabine's floor, she felt a lurch in her stomach. Cautiously, she proceeded down the hallway. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the door was opened, but stopping immediately when she entered the room and found the place in ruins.

"Sabine?" She hollered and tore through the bedroom door. Her face filled with utter horror when she found Sabine's lifeless body lying in the middle of a giant pile of debris. She ran to it. Her eyes shot to the wound on her stomach.

"Sabine?" Her voice cracked when she said the old woman's name. "Sabine..." she pet the woman's cold head and brushed the stray hairs from her head.

"She's dead," Arabelle jumped at the sudden sound of someone else's voice besides her own. She looked towards the corner; Erik was sitting against the wall, his arms resting on his knees. He was hunched over, looking at the wall.

"What happened to her?" Arabelle demanded, pushing back tears.

"They must have been looking for this," he held up the ring. "She must have not told them what they wanted to hear." His voice seemed unfazed by the situation.

Arabelle found a blanket to cover Sabine with. She kissed her head and walked out. Arabelle felt lifeless. It wasn't until she closed the door to her room did she wake from her trance. She leaned against the door, tears slowly streamed down her face as her body sank to the floor. Her crying was silent, she didn't sob, she didn't curl herself up, no; she just sat there and let the tears roll. She only cried for ten minutes before the tears stopped coming.

Everything seemed to stop in time. She sat there, hardly moving, hardly thinking, for hours. Finally, she pulled herself up and turned on the kerosene lamp. She opened the trunk that lay dormant in the middle of the room and began to fill it with her clothes and the contents of her armoire. It was almost halfway filled when the light went out. She sighed in annoyance and walked over to the lamp and turned it back up. When she continued her packing, it went out again. She growled in frustration and threw the clothes in the trunk.

"Get out!" She said with venom in her voice.

"Stop packing," he responded flatly. The room is pitch black, she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face, let alone, him.

"No," she reached her arms out in front of her, deciding not to let the lack of light stop her. The armoire shook when she bumped into it. She opened a drawer, pulled out a few pieces of clothing, and then turned towards the trunk, ramming into something hard and solid.

"Stop," his voice forceful now. She doesn't answer; instead, she attempts to walk around him. He catches her wrist, her mouth curls into a snarl almost.

"Let go," her voice was low and angry. He doesn't loosen his grip, instead, he tightens it. She growls deep within her chest.

"No," he whispers in her ear. She didn't like being touched, especially in complete darkness. To prove a point, she attempted to thrust her elbow into his side. He caught her arm and grasped it tightly.

"Let me go!" She snarled and began to thrash. He released his grip and backed away.

"Don't give up," he said to her quietly.

"Get out!" She screeched. The light returned and the door closed shut. She huffed in anger and then continued packing. But deep down, she had a feeling that this time, he was truly gone. Little did she know, he was.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry this chapter was a little late. I've had a lot on my plate this past week and it's not going to let up anytime soon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And since I don't like to leave anyone hanging, I'm posting seven today, too. I'm going on vacation on Friday and the earliest I'd be able to update would be next Tuesday night. So don't forget to check before you leave!**

**I'm sorry if you feel it's moving slow, it just needs to in order to get the story to develop the way I want it to. Anyways, thanks for reading, and please review!**

**Luce, Your Surly Mermaid!**


	7. Chapter VII: Lose, Lose Situation

He pounded his fist on the stone wall and screamed in anger.

"Why do you tempt me, so?" He gritted his teeth and rammed his fists to the wall once more. His mind kept flashing back to the confrontation that had just occurred between Arabelle and him. He couldn't stop thinking about the pain he saw in her eyes, the rage, and the near helplessness she felt. He couldn't let go of the sensations that filled him whenever he touched her. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she cried, about how she just let the tears silently fall, how she never whimpered. Why was it that every time he looked at her, he saw a little bit of himself? That he could almost understand her pain. Maybe she was his other half?

"What is wrong with you?" Erik growled at himself. "All you're after is the money, that's it!" He desperately reminded himself.

"She doesn't matter, she's just a pawn." He slumped over and tried to convince himself, pounding his forehead in an attempt to push the idea into his brain. "She doesn't matter." His voice broke every time he uttered those words, his heart sinking with them.

"Maybe she's not," a familiar voice came from behind him. "Maybe, Erik, she's something more." The voice had a thick French accent, one he remembered well.

"I take it you are well, Madame Giry." Erik turned to face the ballerina that had saved him so long ago.

"I'm doing better, considering all the trouble and pain you caused." She took small steps with her cane, not wanting to move too fast. "You, though, my old friend, seem more twisted inside than ever." He turned his head away from her and went to the area that had once served as his bedroom.

"What business is it of yours?" His remark was snide as ever, she only smirked.

"It is not any of my business. I simply thought you were dead and came down here to pay my respects and say goodbye to you, this time, forever." She limped her way up the rough stone stairs to him.

"Well, obviously, I'm not. Now leave me be." He waved his hand at her.

"You must let her go, before she destroys you completely." Erik looked at her confused. She sighed and sank down on the torn up bed. Madame Giry knew not how else she could explain.

"You will never be satisfied or happy with anyone, unless you let Christine go." He sneered at her remark, not wanting to face the truth of her words. Christine was his first and only love, he was sure of it. Erik refused to just forget her. But he knew that Madame Giry would not leave unless he convinced her.

"I have let her go," he grumbled. She shook her head, not buying into his words at all.

"Then why do you still hold her ring?" The Madame stood and began heading out, Erik chased after her.

"I will not let her go!" He huffed and turned his back to her, acting like a child.

"Then I'm afraid, old friend, you'll be lost forever." Madame Giry's face was filled with sorrow along with her words. Erik refused to look at her.

"I guess this is goodbye for the very last time," he heard her cane clack on the stone and slowly fade away.

For several hours, he laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling thinking, thinking about all the events of the past few days, thinking about her words, the words of his oldest friend, his only friend.

'Then I'm afraid, old friend, you'll be lost forever.' The pain in her voice made him cringe as it echoed through his mind. He was brought back from his trance when he suddenly heard a crunching sound.

"So I've been thinking," he sat up to find Arabelle, sitting on a ledge by the iron gate, eating an apple.

"How'd you get in here?" His words having a touch of venom to them. She took another bite of the apple and smirked.

"Ah ha, a thief never reveals her secrets." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I truly did underestimate you."

"Most people do. Now, wouldn't you like to hear what I've been thinking about?" Erik sighed heavily then nodded.

"Yes. What were you thinking about?" He stood and stretched wide then sat on the edge of the steps, his feet in the water.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Erik's curiosity peaked a little and he couldn't help but smile slyly.

"Really?"

"Don't let your head explode," she glared at him a little. "Going on."

"By all means," his hands making the 'roll on' motion.

"I was also thinking about when Cornette came to visit. How she was just a little too happy about everything and how she wasn't very surprised about how Pierre was taken. Then I began to try and find a connection between Cornette and Pierre. That's when it clicked."

"What?"

"I met up with an old friend. Someone I knew could help me out-"

"Wait, I'm confused," Erik sighed again and rubbed his temples. "What clicked, who is this friend, and helped you with what?" She sighed in frustration then bit her apple holding it in her mouth. She then jumped off the ledge and walked towards him, trudging through the water.

"I remembered that a few years ago, my friend Joshua told me that he heard Madame Cornette saying she'd finally found a way to get me back in the house. He said that she was laughing wildly and saying something about sending in someone to spy on me, someone she truly trusted. From that point on I waited for someone to randomly enter into my life and try quickly to gain my trust, so I waited. For a few months, nothing happened. I assumed that what Joshua heard was a drunken Madame Cornette ranting.

So I forgot about it all. Then I realized, that that's when someone very close and very special to me, entered my life."

"Sabine," He looked up at her, she was excited about having figuring this out. He could tell by how fast she was talking, how detailed she explained it, and because she couldn't stand still.

"Exactly! I also realized that this was about four years ago and that every time since then, Madame Cornette started to either make my deadline shorter or make my quota more. Also, every time I met her demands, she got angrier and angrier. That's when it hit me!"

"What! What hit you?" Erik stood in frustration, waiting for her to get to the point, not being able to stand it much longer.

"Sabine got too close! She couldn't do it; she couldn't go through with what Madame Cornette had sent her in there to do! That's why she 'kidnapped' Pierre!" She was practically jumping up and down with excitement. He couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter at her. She looked ridiculous, but it was funny as hell.

"So Pierre isn't in any danger?" Of course he already knew this, but then again, there was more too this than she thought.

"Yup!" She smiled.

"Problem solved!" He raised his arms in the air for emphasis, trying to pull off a small smile. But he quickly lost it when he saw hers fade.

"Problem not solved," her voice becoming low now and her body still. "This isn't a 'win or lose' situation, it's a lose/lose situation."

"How? He's not in any danger, so you don't have to go back and work for her."

"That's the thing, even if I did figure her plan out, I still don't have the money for her," she rubbed her arm and looked at her feet. "This has been the toughest deadline yet, and the fact that business has been slow, made it impossible. I won't make it, and I know she came up with the rest just to ensure this."

"Then you are in fact giving up..." Arabelle looked up at him, her eyes narrowed.

"No! Certainly not! I'm going to confront her and quit. She broke the agreement!" She put her hands on her hips. Something about her plan didn't feel very reassuring and they both felt it when the words left her mouth.

"And she's going to let you? Come on now! You need to think this through!" He talked to her like she was a child. It didn't faze her in the least.

"I've already gone to see her. I threw what money I had made this deadline at her and told her I quit. I threatened to out her thievery by turning myself in and telling the police of our little bargain. She caved instantly and it was done!" She smiled triumphantly. Something seemed out of place, something Erik couldn't quite put his finger on.

"That's amazing, congratulations." He tried his best to sound emotionless. She didn't notice how sarcastic his words were, instead, she gave him a warm smile in return.

"I also have a real job, at the bakery. Monsieur Adolpha said that I can help in the back, and with deliveries." He didn't know what to say, other than wanting to question all of this. But, he decided, however, that he would instead just follow her every once in a while, to see if she was telling the truth.

"That's great. I'm glad everything is working out for you." Arabelle walked towards him and took his hand, opening it up and setting a sack of coins in it.

"This was a pay day in advance. I thought that you could use this more." Erik's jaw dropped a little, but he quickly found his cool and nodded in thanks. She patted his arm.

"Thanks for everything as well. I guess I'll see you when I see you, Erik." She smiled and disappeared down the canal.

There was something definitely not right about all this, and Erik felt it with every fiber of his being. Trouble seemed to constantly follow this girl and it was definitely too good to believe that Madame Cornette had given up that easily, especially after all the trouble she went through to get her. Something was amiss, and he was going to find out what.

* * *

It had taken everything she had to keep from spilling the truth to Erik. The words were like acid when she told him those lies about having a job, about successfully confronting Cornet and putting her in her place. It took everything she had to smile and act like everything was perfect. The truth was, things were far from perfect, in fact, they were a million times worse.

When she had gone to confront Madame Cornette about her deceit, she had smiled and praised her for figuring things out. From the moment she had told Madame Cornet that the deal was off and that she quit, things got much worse for her, for Arabelle.

"I don't think so," she had sipped her wine and smiled a devilish smile and cackled like a witch. "You're not getting away from me that easily." Arabelle immediately stood and made clear the Madame's actions and what they cost.

"The deal was off the moment you sent in a spy. You violated the terms of the agreement, I owe you nothing!" She spat at the Madame, steam coming from her ears. Arabelle was determined to walk out of this place a contract and duty free woman. The Madame just let out another cackling laugh and narrowed her eyes at the prize she had been seeking since she first laid eyes on it.

"You really think that I'm going to give in that easily?" She hooted and laughed even harder. "It seems you've underestimated me, my dear." Arabelle glared at her and her face getting hot with rage.

"If you don't drop the agreement, I will go to the police and expose us both!" Arabelle pounded her fists on the table and looked the Madame straight in the eye. She wasn't giving up either. There was no way in hell she was going to let the Madame win this time. She was going to come out of this the on top, no pun intended, no matter what!

"You would be willing to go to prison, and possibly be executed, just to avoid working in the house?" She smiled at her epiphany, and a twinkle came to her eye.

"I would rather live the day of my father's death a million times than work here." Arabelle spit, he voice gritty and hoarse. She began to dig her nails into the table. Madame Cornette found this new information incredibly fascinating and was now more than ever determined to make Arabelle hers.

"Even if that meant sacrificing your friend's life?" She raised an eyebrow and her smile widened in sheer evil. Arabelle was taken aback and her rage dissipated. She took a step back and her breath began to quicken. Bingo, Madame Cornette thought to herself.

"What are you saying?" Arabelle narrowed her eyes at the Madame. Knowing exactly what she was getting at, making her heart almost burst.

"A simple..proposal, as it were. You make some house calls to a few of my high paying customers."

"What if I don't accept this proposal of yours?" Arabelle's voice cracked just the tiniest bit, any normal person wouldn't have noticed, but the Madame had. In fact, her pain made this all the more fun, gave her all the more pleasure.

"Then I kill Joshua. I have many resources, you know? I can have him shot, poisoned, hung, stabbed, and so on. After all, my business is the most successful in all of Paris." Arabelle gulped ever so slightly. She shook her head at Cornette.

"I don't believe you!" She shouted at her, not willing to back down in the least.

"Are you sure you want to take that chance?" Cornette's voice was thick and oily. Her personality and features looked more and more serpent like every time she spoke.

Arabelle thought about her old friend. The person that had saved her the last night she was here; the one person that had never lied to her, never gotten or wanted anything out of their friendship. The only friendship she had that wasn't built on lies. "Was I willing to risk it?" Arabelle asked herself. She already knew the answer, so did Cornette.

"All you have to do is make a few house calls a week," Cornette gulped down the rest of her wine then stood and walked towards a desk in the corner of the room. She picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Arabelle.

"You do this, and nothing will ever happen to Joshua." Arabelle sighed in defeat and reached for the paper, looking at the name and the address. There was no escape. She should have known.

"Fine," was all she said before walking towards the door.

"There's one more thing," Arabelle stopped and faced her warden. "If you tell Joshua of our new proposal-" Cornette cut herself off, knowing that Arabelle knew all too well the consequences.

"I understand," she nodded solemnly.

"And here's your first payment in advance," she threw a small sack of coins to Arabelle. "Welcome back to the Scarlet Palace." Her smile and words were slimy and tormenting.

After that she had decided to pay a little visit to Erik. She wanted to make sure he stayed away from her, so he would not find out about her new job. It was amazing even to her at how easy it was to find him, to find her way to the hidden cavern in the canals. But what was most surprising was that he hadn't even heard her. She knew he had no idea she was hear when she bit into the apple and saw him jump a little. The conversation felt like it went on for hours. When she was finished, Arabelle ran as fast as she could back to the old building and to her room.

"The worst is over." She thought to herself and truly believed it, until her eyes came upon a few boxes sitting on the top of her trunk. They had not been there when she had left. Cautiously, she lifted the lid of one of them and peered inside, only to find her stomach twist and have a wave of nausea fall on her. The box was filled with her 'uniform' for when she made her house calls. There was also a note inside, something she absolutely did NOT want to read.

"I almost forgot to give you these. You can wear them underneath any clothes you like, they're expecting it. Enjoy your first call. Madame Cornette." She almost puked, but managed to hold it in. But the feeling didn't leave her, it never would. But this was the only way. She had to save her friend, and she was willing to anything to keep him alive, anything.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, here's seven. I'm particularly proud of this chapter. I love the dialog between Erik and Arabelle at the end! I don't know why, but I felt so witty when I wrote it last summer! I'm a nerd, I can't help it! For those of you who were waiting for a development in Erik, I hope this is a bit of what you were craving! Plus, this is longer than usual!**

**Unfortunately, from here on out, updates may not be as regular as they were this last month. School is starting and I've got a lot of writing for classes and clubs and what not! They won't be weeks at a time though, since all I have to do is edit. After Chapter 10 updates are going to really slow since that's as far as I wrote last summer. I'm really sorry! I will not leave this story unfinished! I promise you that much! I couldn't live with an unfinished story! It may take weeks, but you will get an update! I swear to you!**

**As always, please read and review!**

**Luce, Your Surly Mermaid!**


	8. Chapter VIII: House Calls

It had taken everything she had to keep from spilling the truth to Erik. The words were like acid when she told him those lies about having a job, about successfully confronting Cornette and putting her in her place. It took everything she had to smile and act like everything was perfect. The truth was, things were far from perfect, in fact, they were a million times worse.

When she had gone to confront Madame Cornette about her deceit, she had smiled and praised her for figuring things out. From the moment she had told Madame Cornette that the deal was off and that she quit, things got much worse for Arabelle.

"I don't think so," she had sipped her wine and smiled a devilish smile and cackled like a witch. "You're not getting away from me that easily." Arabelle immediately stood and made clear the Madame's actions and what they cost.

"The deal was off the moment you sent in a spy. You violated the terms of the agreement, I owe you nothing!" She spat at the Madame, steam coming from her ears. Arabelle was determined to walk out of this place a contract and duty free woman, but the Madame, however, was not. Cornette just let out another cackling laugh and narrowed her eyes at the prize she had been seeking since she first laid eyes on it.

"You really think that I'm going to give in that easily?" She hooted and laughed even harder. "It seems you've underestimated me, my dear." Arabelle glared, her face getting hot with rage.

"If you don't drop the agreement, I will go to the police and expose us both!" Arabelle pounded her fists on the table and looked the Madame straight in the eye. She wasn't giving up either. There was no way in hell she was going to let the Madame win this time. She was going to come out of this on top, no pun intended, no matter what!

"You would be willing to go to prison, and possibly be executed, just to avoid working in the house?" She smiled at her epiphany, and a twinkle came to her eye.

"I would rather live the day of my father's death a million times than ever have to work here." Arabelle spit, he voice gritty and hoarse, digging her nails into the table. Madame Cornette found this new information incredibly fascinating and was now more than ever determined to make Arabelle hers.

"Even if that meant sacrificing your friend's life?" She raised an eyebrow and her smile widened in sheer evil. Arabelle was taken aback and her rage dissipated. She took a step back and her breath began to quicken. Bingo, Madame Cornette thought to herself.

"What are you saying?" Arabelle narrowed her eyes at the Madame. Knowing exactly what she was getting at, making her heart almost burst.

"A simple...proposal, as it were. I need you make some house calls to a few of my high paying customers."

"What if I don't accept this proposal of yours?" Arabelle's voice cracked just the tiniest bit, any normal person wouldn't have noticed, but the Madame had. In fact, her pain made this all the more fun, gave her all the more pleasure.

"Then I'll kill Joshua. I have many resources, you know? I can have him shot, poisoned, hung, stabbed, and so on. After all, my business is the most successful in all of Paris." Arabelle gulped ever so slightly. She shook her head at Cornette.

"I don't believe you!" She shouted, not willing to back down in the least.

"Are you sure you want to take that chance?" Cornette's voice was thick and oily. Her personality and features looked more and more serpent like every time she spoke.

Arabelle thought about her old friend. The person that had saved her the last night she was here; the one person that had never lied to her, never gotten or wanted anything out of their friendship. The only friendship she had that wasn't built on lies. "Was I willing to risk it?" Arabelle asked herself. But she already knew the answer, so did Cornette.

"All you have to do is make a few house calls a couple of times a week," Cornette gulped down the rest of her wine then stood and walked towards a desk in the corner of the room. She picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Arabelle.

"You do this, and nothing will ever happen to Joshua." Arabelle sighed in defeat and reached for the paper, looking at the name and the address. There was no escape. She should have known.

"Fine," was all she said before walking towards the door.

"There's one more thing," Arabelle stopped and faced her warden. "If you tell Joshua of our new proposal-" Cornette cut herself off, knowing that Arabelle knew all too well the consequences.

"I understand," she nodded solemnly.

"And here's your first payment in advance," she threw a small sack of coins to Arabelle. "Welcome back to the Scarlet Palace." Her smile and words were slimy and tormenting.

After that she had decided to pay a little visit to Erik. She wanted to make sure he'd stay away from her, so he would not find out about her new job.

It was amazing, even to her, at how easy it was to find him, to find her way to the hidden cavern in the canals. But what was most surprising was that he hadn't even heard her. Arabelle knew he had no idea she was here when she bit into the apple and saw him jump a little. The conversation felt like it went on for hours. When she was finished, Arabelle ran as fast as she could back to the old building and to her room.

"The worst is over." She thought to herself and truly believed it, until her eyes came upon a few boxes sitting on the top of her trunk that had not been there when she left. Cautiously, she lifted the lid of one of them and peered inside, only to find her stomach twist and have a wave of nausea fall on her. The box was filled with her 'uniform' for when she made her house calls. There was also a note inside, something she absolutely did NOT want to read.

"I almost forgot to give you these. You can wear them underneath any clothes you like, they're expecting it. Enjoy your first call. Madame Cornette." She almost puked, but managed to hold it in. But the feeling didn't leave her, it never would. But this was the only way. She had to save her friend, and she was willing to do anything to keep him alive, anything.

As she suspected, Erik was just a little suspicious of her story and he was following and watching her. To make her lie seem authentic, she went into the bakery each morning and visited Madame Adolpha, asking her if she would possibly teach her how to make scones. Of course, Madame Adolpha had obliged happily and asked if Arabelle would be so kind as to drop off an order on her way out. This had been the perfect cover. She did this every day. Knowing that Erik was watching and that eventually, he would believe that her lie was true and leave her be. Arabelle continued with this charade for five days. On the sixth, she hadn't spotted him at all, but she wanted to be extra sure in her deceit so she went an extra day in the bakery. She couldn't be too careful.

The day that Arabelle knew he was definitely gone, she made a quick trip to her 'client's' address, wanting to map out a route so to avoid possible thieves, rapists, and anyone else who would attack a woman at night. Making note of all the allies and short cuts she could take and any other escape routes. When the night finally came, she had cleaned herself up especially well since she had puked twice during the day, knowing of what waited for her in the evening.

When she arrived at the man's house, precisely on time, she felt her stomach twist and knot up again, threatening to spew. Quickly, she put on her emotional mask, hiding her distain along with the utter disgust she felt. The man opened the door before Arabelle had the chance to even knock. This made her jump a little. The man that stood before her was middle aged, rather plump, but cleanly dressed. His hair was thinning a little, but he didn't hide it.

"Good evening, mademoiselle. Come on in." He was so gentlemen like that it shocked her. He closed the door so lightly behind her that she almost didn't hear it.

"May I take your coat?" This was the part she was dreading, but she swallowed her pride and put on her seductive face. Turning towards him, a lustful smile on her face, she reached for the buttons on her long coat.

"Allow me," her voice filled with fake desire. She opened the coat slowly and let it drop to the floor, leaving her with nothing on but her 'uniform', the lingerie that Cornett had sent, it was pink and black. He approached her cautiously. Arabelle knew that she would have to lead this one so she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her breast. He grabbed on instantly and began to run his other hand up and down her thigh and to her buttocks. She let out a fake moan. He felt his breath quicken.

"Don't be afraid to touch, love." She whispered in his ear and had a sickening feeling that he wouldn't.

It was very late into the night when they had finished, or he had finished with her. When all was said and done, the man helped her into her coat, handed her a few extra francs and lead her to the door.

"I will no doubt be telling your Madame how satisfactory this night has been," he whispered to her with a dirty grin. She returned it with the goodbye kiss.

"I'm glad everything was to your liking. Have a nice night." Arabelle closed her coat tight and headed out the door.

"I already have." He said under his breath and closed the door. As fast as her legs could carry her, Arabelle headed back home to thoroughly bathe herself. She felt dirty all over, felt violated, and worthless. The only positive that had come out of this night was that her pre mapping and routes had really helped her, which she would no doubt make a regular thing. Also, he was going to give Madame Cornette a positive review of her performance and Joshua would be safe for another day. That was all that mattered.

* * *

**A/N: Well, after three long weeks, I've finally found time to post another chapter. I'm really sorry you guys had to wait so long! I've had a lot of bullcrap filling up my life at the moment! I'll do my best to post Chapter Nine ASAP! I can pretty much tell you that from here on out, things are going to get majorly spicy! And that if you're confused by this chapter, you might want to read the previous one! Thanks for everyone that has been a loyal reader! I really appreciate it! I'd love to hear some reviews! I love constructive criticism! So don't be shy! PLEASE! XD Haha! Anyways,**

**Thanks again, guys!**

**Luce, Your Surly Mermaid!**


	9. Chapter IX: Mending a Broken Heart

Erik cringed at what he discovered in the neatly wrapped packages lying in Arabelle's room. One of the boxes was missing its contents, which made him cringe even more. It was nearly eleven and Arabelle wasn't even back yet. Erik felt sick at the sight of the note from Cornette. He couldn't believe that Arabelle was mixed up in all of this again, that she was actually willing to enter back into the profession she had been desperately trying to avoid for years. But she must've had a good reason. He could see in her eyes how much she hated it, she wouldn't just give in. Was Madame Cornette using something, or someone, against her? Erik paced around the room for several minutes before finally deciding just to wait it out for her.

He flopped on the dusty couch and slowly began to close his eyes. He would wait for her to get back, then he would confront her, and he would know the truth, but for now, he would just rest his eyes for a second or too, maybe a few minutes…

A sudden explosion of light in the room made him jump up instantly. There was nothing but white while he waited for his eyes to adjust.

"Jesus! You scared me! What the hell are you doing here?" Arabelle scolded him. He could hear her moving around, and rustling things, but he couldn't see her.

"I was waiting for you to get back," He stood and almost ran into the trunk. The room began to get clearer and his eyes landed straight on a ragged, tired, and completely disarrayed Arabelle. Her makeup was smeared, her curly raven hair was a giant mess, and her small legs were shaking.

"Well I'm back, so you can go. 'Night," she quickly rushed to the bathroom to change. Erik grabbed her arm before she could grab the knob.

"I know where you were, what you were doing. Don't lie to me." Erik tried to make his tone as dominant and intimidating as possible. She simply looked away for a second and then returned with a straight, unreadable face. Oh, she was good.

"Are you looking for a freebie or what?" She was trying to cover up how she really felt, he could tell.

"Do you like doing this? Playing pretend, playing the whore?" Erik's tone became dead serious. A wide smile fell on her face. Erik couldn't help but stare in horror and disgust.

"As a matter of fact, I do. It isn't nearly as bad as I thought. I didn't understand it when I was younger, but now I do and I quite enjoy it." Her expression, her words, her voice were all convincing. She must have been hiding something, he thought.

"I don't believe you." He simply stated and turned her so she faced him fully. Her performance didn't falter a bit at his stare, at his accusation, in fact, it got even stronger.

"I admit that at first I wasn't sure about it, but then, tonight- him, wow. It was so much better than I thought, in fact, it was extraordinary." Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she let out a deep sigh of pleasure. Her smile grew wider and she bit her lip. Erik shook her shoulders hard. Her eyes shot wide open and looked straight into his.

"He also pays so well!" She was practically giggling like a little girl. Erik's mouth hung open in disbelief at the words that were coming from her mouth. There was no way this was real, he thought. It was all an act, wasn't it? He found himself more confused than ever, not really sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I really think I'm going to continue this, I mean I'm good at it, it pays well, plus it feels absolutely amazing!" Arabelle's words snapped him back to earth, and Erik began to stare her down once more.

"You like doing this? Being a whore? Being an empty shell of a person, just serving others? That sounds nothing like you!" He shook her shoulders hard and she growled and wormed her way out of his grasp.

"What the fuck do you know about me anyway? We've known each other for what, two weeks, maybe?" She hissed. "You know shit about me, about who I am! I can do what I want; I'm a grown mother fucking woman!" Erik felt his own anger rising. Did she really think this was a way of living?

"I know that if your father were alive, he would be ashamed of you, of his only child!" Erik wanted instantly to take the words back. He never meant for them to actually be said. But once they were, it was done. Tears rose up into Arabelle's eyes and her face went hot with embarrassment and anger.

"Get out!" She screamed with hatred. Erik stood his ground and didn't move a muscle. This only made matters worse, making Arabelle grab at a knife hidden in her pocket.

"Get the fuck out, or so help me god, I'll cut up both sides of your face!" Her words were filled with poison and honesty. The lights flashed out, and Erik left without another word.

All the way back to his place below the Opera Populaire, all Erik could think about was Arabelle's words, about how she seemed proud of her new profession. How her face, words, and even voice were all convincing. But that her eyes were what gave it all away. When he saw them he instantly knew it was all a ruse. That she was just trying to push him away, trying to protect him. But why should he care? She wasn't important; he still loved Christine...didn't he?

It angered him, being so confused. He was no longer sure if he felt anything at all for Christine anymore or if maybe he felt something for this new woman that had very suddenly entered his life. In frustration, Erik growled and screamed fiercely down the canal. The echo that came with it was menacing, even the rats seemed to flee in fear.

He wanted so much to break something, to tear something to bits. "No", he yelled at himself. "You're not angry, you don't care about her; she means nothing to you!" A picture of the old woman and her words crossed his mind, making him angrier. He had promised to protect her, to watch over her. When he made it to the cavern, immediately, he grabbed a bottle of hard liquor he had managed to save from the raid, and sucked at it, falling on his bed, or what remnants of a bed he had.

For hours, that's all he did: lie on his bed and, every once in a while, take a couple sips from his bottle. He wanted so bad to just jump from the top of the Opera house and end it all.

"Now what possibly, do you think that would accomplish?" A voice came from the darkness. It was one he most definitely recognized, one that he had wanted to hear for so long.

"Christine?" She appeared before him, exactly the way she looked the very last time he saw her. But something seemed different about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Is that really you?" He reached out to her, trying to touch her hand, but all he found was air. She was a hallucination, he thought, a drunken hallucination.

"In a way, yes, but I'm not a drunken hallucination. You're just so confused and lonely that your brain is projecting the image of the person you think you miss the most, Christine Daae." Erik became even more confused than he thought possible.

"So you're here because I miss you so much? And because I'm confused, so I think I'm seeing you?" He tried to make as much sense of the situation as possible. She nodded and giggled a little.

"Now back to that first thought. Why, dear Erik, would you want to kill yourself?" She sat down next to him and rubbed his face. He leaned against her hand and closed his eyes. But when he did, it was cold, like winter winds blowing against his cheek.

"Because I couldn't bear the thought of living without you," her hand pulled away and Erik's eyes quickly shot open. She could see straight through him.

"That's not true; at least, that's not what your heart says." He looks at her, not believing a word.

"Yes it is! I still love you! I miss you so much, that's why you're here!" He said franticly. Christine shook her head.

"Your heart has let me go, your head hasn't. I'm here because you're confused about what's happening to Arabelle because you care for her deeply." Erik wanted desperately to deny it, but something in him knew it was futile.

"What do I do?" He confided in her. She stroked his cheek and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Watch over her, like you did me. Be her guardian angel. Sooner or later she's going to need you." Erik hung his head, looking at his feet, he sighed then returned his gaze to the woman he had once desperately wanted, then lost. She could feel doubt in him and pulled his face to look at her.

"You can't give up on her," her eyes bore straight through him. Her words making him even more unsure. The last time he had refused to back down, he had sent the Opera house up in flames, and killed several people. This seemed to cross her mind as well and she looked even deeper into his eyes.

"She doesn't want you to give up on her. She's pushing you away to save you, because she cares deeply for you." These last words brought comfort to him and a sense of peace filled him for the first time in a very, very long time. He nodded and smiled at her, the woman he had once loved so.

"I won't give up." Suddenly, Christine transformed into the old woman, Sabine. He jumped up and stared at her, wide eyed. "What is this trickery?" He demanded of her. The elderly woman stood and came towards him.

"Please watch over her, she needs you much more than you know. Please." Erik's body shook, like he was having a falling dream. His eyes shot open. He had been asleep; it had all been a dream. It was all a dream. He thought about it for a second. He thought of how real the dream had seemed, how real it felt. Erik dug Christine's ring from his pocket and studied it, waiting for any sort of emotional response he had towards it. But, after several moments, he found he felt nothing whatsoever. Had he finally let Christine go?

"I think I finally have."

* * *

**A/N: First off, I want to apologize for this being so late. I'm really sorry, guys...girls...people? Anyways, I'm sorry! I've just been having a really rough year at school and all the stress of classes and terrible relationships was finally catching up to me! Plus, I've been having a little trouble with depression...but not to worry, that's just going to make my terrible writing seem less terrible! **

**Hope you like this chapter, I realize the plot continues to move slowly...but I wrote all of this, through chapter eleven, a year and a half ago. Once I start writing regularly, things will move much faster! I swear to you! I'm also going to post another chapter on Saturday night, Sunday morning. Things are looking up for the first time in a very very long time, so updates will be more regular and less lengthy in time!**

**Thanks for being loyal...those of you who are!**

**Luce, Your Surly Mermaid**

**P.S. Go to the midnight showing of Harry Potter 7 part 1 tomorrow! I'm going! So should you! And don't be lame and just read the full in depth synopsis on ...fight the temptation, fight it!**


	10. Chapter X: Stay

Arabelle no longer had a sense of time anymore. A month quickly passed by her. That was how long it had been since she'd seen or heard from Erik. But was far from how long it had been since she last thought about him. Arabelle could never go more than a minute without thinking about the last time they had spoken, when she had invoked a fight in an attempt to push him away, to protect him. It seemed to have worked; she hadn't seen or heard a thing from him. But instead of comforting her, this made her worry more.

But when she wasn't thinking about Erik, she was thinking about how disgusted she was with herself, and how much longer she would last doing this. Right now she figured three more "customers", if she didn't drink. But recently, Arabelle had taken up a new habit to help her through each night. She would puke before she went, drink hard while she was there, space out during it, puke again on the way home, and then bathe for two hours. This all seemed very successful, until she was alone with herself. Arabelle could tell that she was sinking lower and lower into depression; that after each "job", she felt a little more numb. By the end of the month, she had little feeling left.

Madame Cornette seemed to be enjoying Arabelle's misery. So much so, that each week she gave Arabelle more clients. Arabelle could feel Madame Cornett trying to break her; trying to turn her into a true whore. And she was doing it; Arabelle felt almost nothing at all anymore. She couldn't even find a good enough reason to get out of bed each morning. But she had to, tonight she had a new client. And Madame had left her specific instructions and detailing of what the client was like and liked. Arabelle could tell, just by reading it, the man was very dominant and wasn't going to be the least bit gentle. It would be his way or the highway.

As she was dressing that night, Arabelle couldn't help but notice she hadn't vomited this time. Which was weird for her. Maybe Madame Cornette had finally broken me after all... she thought to herself. Walking down the street towards her client's dwellings, Arabelle couldn't help but feel extremely nervous, more than usual. She didn't like clients who think that because they're getting paid, they can order courtesans around and make them do whatever they wanted, especially when they get violent.

Arriving ten minutes early, as instructed, Arabelle noticed how thick the doors were, how tightly closed the curtains were on the windows, and that the fence gate had a lock on it. All these obeservations just made her stomach jump and twist even more. This place felt and looked more like a prision then it did a house. She wrapped lightly on the door three times, but before she could finish the third, the door swung open.

A very tall, very built, very broad shouldered man stood before her. His hair was slicked back, his face was clean shaven, and his suit was expensive. But the worst part was his gaze; it was cold, shallow, angry, and scary. His eyes narrowed a little as he looked me up and down.

"Are you Ariel, from the Scarlet Palace?" His voice was slimy and vain. She could already tell that he liked the sound of himself when he spoke.

"Oui, Monsieur-"

"Do not in good heavens, say my name! You will refer to me as Master, understand?" Not even a minute had passed and he was already shouting orders at her. He quickly yanked her inside before she could respond.

"Now, Ariel, follow me to the Den, I want to have a look at you."

"Alright," Arabelle responded in the most seductive tone she could muster at the moment. Unexpectedly, the man turned around and grabbed her wrist yanking it, hard.

"Whenever I address you, you are to respond with 'Yes, Master'! Got it?" He was practically spitting in her face. Arabelle wanted so badly to escape his grip and break his nose, knock him around a little, show him how he should speak to a lady.

"Yes, Master." She responded, trying to hide the distain and the sarcasm in her voice. He turned around sharply and began leading her down a hallway. Arabelle knew the second she stepped through the gate that this was going to be the most physically painful night of her carrier. Everything about this man screamed commanding, selfish, shallow, and greedy, no morals, and perfectionist. Not to mention pompous. He walked with his nose in the air, his chest puffed out, and his shoulders back.

'What an asshole!' She thought to herself.

They stopped in front of a large double door. The man pushed them open, letting light burst through the dark hallway as flames danced wildly in a large fireplace in the center of the room. The Den was essentially decorated with every type of animal that you could hunt for.

"Come here, take off your jacket and spin around for me." He snapped his fingers and pointed at where he wanted her to stand.

"Yes, Master." He smiled at this, which made me feel like slime was oozing down my throat. Slowly, she removed her long coat. She had picked the red lingerie to wear tonight, which was also instructed. She began to turn slowly, modeling for him. This went on for a solid ten minutes. Every now and then, he grunted. Arabelle didn't know if it was out of pleasure and disgust. In fact, she wanted very much not to know. Finally he told her to stop, turn and face him. The look on his face was that of a sick sick man.

"I guess you'll do. You're stout, pretty meaty around the thighs; your ass is a little big for my taste, and your boobs are a little on the small side, but I can overlook all this." Needless to say, now Arabelle wanted very much to punch him in the face and his tender area and kick him with her heeled shoes.

"You can overlook it? I'm sorry that I'm not to your liking! I'm being paid to do this, so show a little fucking respect!" Arabelle couldn't hold her tongue at his comments, but instantly wished she had. The man smacked her hard across the face, knocking the wind out of her and making her fall to the ground.

"Never speak to me like that again! You don't order me, I order you! And I am paying you to do this, so you will obey my every command and like it!" His face shook and became red as he screamed at her; his words truly those of an arrogant man. Arabelle didn't look at him, only at the fire, wishing she was in it.

"Did you not hear what I said?" He smacked her again across the face, making her cheek feel like it was going to explode. Tears filled her eyes, but she held them in.

"Yes, Master." She said through clenched teeth. He smirked at her anger, he was enjoying it, he was enjoying the power he had over her.

"Now," he said smugly. "Let's get on with it." He jumped at her then, ripping her lingerie off, throwing it somewhere in the room. He kissed her hard, smashing his lips into hers. He groped her hard, too. When she reached for his pants, he grabbed her wrists and smashed them on the ground above her head.

"You will do what I tell you when I tell you, nothing more." He hissed in her ear before biting at it.

"Yes, Master." The words felt like acid on her tongue. From then on, he barked orders at her like a dog telling her what to touch, how and when. When she didn't do it right, he smacked her. When she did it right, he thrust into her harder. When he finally entered her, he made extra sure he was in control by grabbing her hips tightly.

Three painful hours later, Arabelle was picking up her clothes, getting ready to leave. When the man noticed this, he stood and asked her what she thought she was doing.

"Monsieur, you paid for three hours, it has been three. I hope everything has been to your liking." Arabelle wanted to get out of there as fast as she possibly could, but found an obstacle in her way. The man raised his hand and swung it towards Arabelle once more, only this time, she caught it before it got to her face. This angered the man even more and his other hand wrapped around Arabelle's neck and rammed her into the wall.

"You can go when I say you can go!" He banged her head against the wall, hard. She glared at him and tried to break from his grasp, he only held her tighter.

"Uh uh, don't struggle, or I'll make it more painful." The man smiled wildly with pleasure. Arabelle quickly stopped thrashing. He released his grasp and Arabelle fell to the floor coughing and gasping for breath. Immediately, the man ripped her clothes off and thrusted roughly into her. Arabelle let out cries of pain and tried again to squirm out of it. The man banged her head against the floor as a warning to stop. A minute later, he stood, grabbed Arabelle by the arm and led her out the door, throwing her stuff after her. He slammed the door behind her, leaving Arabelle to herself.

Outside, it was pitch black, the only light came from the lamps on the street, but even those were dim. Arabelle gathered her things and attempted to pick herself up from the ground. Once she began walking, every inch of her body screamed in pain with each step she took, each movement she made, every breath she took. At one point, she stopped and vomited the entire contents of her stomach. She cried dry tears all the way. After a few blocks of walking, her legs started to shake wildly beneath her. She lost balance and just collapsed on the ground. Instead of trying to pick herself up and continue her journey back home, Arabelle just sat there on the cold, wet ground, lost in herself.

"I have to say, I'm impressed," a familiar voice and face stood before her. Erik. Arabelle didn't respond, she wasn't even aware what was going on.

"You made it a lot farther than I originally thought." He squatted down in front of her; Arabelle just looked at the ground, the night's events continuously running through her brain on a never ending loop. Erik tried to pull some hair away from Arabelle's face, so he could see her. But right as he brushed her skin, she grabbed his wrist. Her grip was tight and there was no sign of her lightening up anytime soon.

"Arabelle, I'm not going to hurt you. Do you even know who I am?" Erik looked at her eyes for any signs of a response. After a moment, she looked up, her trance broken. She released her grip on him and apologized, her voice weak, and empty. Erik rubbed his wrist a little, the force she had was surprising.

"Now then," he stood and extended a hand her way. "Let me escort you home." Arabelle just stared blankly at the hand then back at her legs, sprawled almost lifelessly beneath her.

"I can't move my legs." Erik's extended arm wrapped around her torso, while the other lifted her legs. Arabelle wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her, not home, but back to the Opera Populaire.

"Why are you taking me here, I want to go home," She squirmed a little in a slight panic. He held her tighter.

"Because, it is significantly closer than the Hotel, plus, I would rather not leave you alone tonight. So do me a great favor, and just trust me for once, please?"

When they finally reached his chamber under the opera house, Erik handed her one of his shirts and led her into a closet where she could change. Arabelle couldn't help but notice how gentlemanly Erik was being about all of this. He wasn't asking questions, he was giving her privacy to change, and he was generally concerned of her well being. 'Did he hit his head recently?' Arabelle wondered.

When she finished, he picked her up once more then placed her gently on the mattress he had lying on the floor. She wrapped herself in the many blankets, trying to warm her body. The blankets rustled again, making her jump when she realized Erik was climbing in with her. He seemed to sense her alarm and quickly reassured her that he was there to sleep, nothing more.

"If it would make you feel more comfortable, I'll sleep on the ground," he suggested and began to do so when Arabelle caught his arm.

"No, it's fine," she said hastily, her eyes pleading him to stay. "You can sleep here, I trust you." This made Erik smile and he crawled back into the covers. She rolled on her side, her back to him. He pulled her close against him. Surprisingly, she didn't panic, but rested comfortably in his embrace. Soon, Arabelle's eyelids got heavy and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. But just before she completely succumbed to the darkness, she heard a voice whisper something in her ear, "I'll keep you safe." There was more, but she dove into the darkness before she had a chance to hear the rest.

* * *

**A/N: God am I sorry this took so long to update! Things have been really busy on my end. And they are still going full speed. I am going to make more of an effort to finish this fic. The end is coming. In fact, there is going to be one more chapter after this before the climax and resolution (which I expect to be a three parter). Many mysteries will be solved, fates determined, and questions answered. This chapter was as graphic as it's going to get, though. Sorry to those hoping for a lemon. I thought about it, but didn't really want to write it. **

**Also, I've mentioned in previous chapters that I'm going to write a Gargoyle fan fic. I've decided to hold off on that until I finish this one. **

**Thank you all for being so paitient(though I have little hope that there are more than just a handful of people who actually read this fic). More to come. **

**Luce, the ever Surly Mermaid**


	11. Chapter XI: Fly Away

Erik's body tensed when he saw the marks that covered her. Arabelle's neck was red, as if someone had been strangling her. Her wrists were bruised and another giant one on her head. He wanted badly to kill the bastard that had done this to her. He felt guilt flood through him as he realized he was there the whole time, thinking she was alright, that something like this wasn't happening. The way she had looked when the man threw her out was the worst part. She looked completely empty, numb. The way she collapsed as her legs gave way, the way she had grabbed at him like he was an attacker. The way she shook all the way home. It was almost too much.

As she drifted off to sleep, he lightly kissed her forehead then whispered in her ear."I'll keep you safe," He whispered in her ear as she drifted off to sleep. "Nothing is going to hurt you anymore, I promise." He lightly kissed her forehead.

"Shit!" Arabelle woke to the sound of the bells of the church. Erik startled awake looked up confused and alarmed.

"What?" Erik yelled in a panic. Arabelle jumped out of the bed and then stopped, looking down at herself, wearing nothing but one of Erik's shirts and her panties.

"What the hell am I wearing?" Erik just stopped and laughed, shaking his head.

"Since you seem fond of cross dressing, take a pair of my pants. Why are you in such a hurry anyway?" Arabelle slipped on a pair of his pants and his shoes too, all of the clothes looking too big.

"I'm late! Son of a bitch," she swore and rapidly buttoned the shirt and looked for her coat and hat. Erik stood and tried to calm her, but almost lost focus when he saw the bruises.

"What are you late for?"

"I promised to meet Joshua at the hotel at noon!"

"You've got plenty of time!"

"It's already noon and the hotel is a fifteen minute run!"

"And?"

"He's always twenty minutes early!"

"Oh…"

Arabelle stumbled into her room, sweat dripping from her forehead, and her lungs gulping the air like it was soon to disappear. Joshua sat patiently on the couch, reading a book. She smiled to herself. Ever since they were kids, he'd been like this. Nose buried deep in some book when he wasn't working; his imagination left floating in the clouds. He glanced at her when she crashed through the door.

"You are late," he turned a page and continued reading. Arabelle sighed as she removed her hat and coat.

"I know, I apologize, I did not mean to be," she sat on the chest in front of him, merely inches away. She waited for him to look up, but he just continued reading. After a minute of pure silence, she snatched the book from him, getting his undivided attention.

"Hey, give that back!" She dangled it in front of him, teasing him. He grabbed and swiped at it, but it was in vain.

"You had something important to tell me," Arabelle thumbed through the book. "Tell me, and I'll give your book back." He continued to try and retrieve the book, but continuously failed. Each attempt made Arabelle smile and laugh more.

"Fine! Cornette plans to sell you," Arabelle's smile evaporates and turns into an empty expression. Her stomach fell through a bottomless pit of darkness.

"Sell me?"

"At her Masquerade Ball next week," she drops the book and takes a few steps back. To sell a courtesan means that a man makes a deal with the headmistress, promising a large sum of cash for the permanent exclusivity and unspoken freedom of a courtesan. She becomes his mistress for life, a prisoner. Most of the courtesans that are sold are never heard from again.

"And to whom am I being sold?" If there was ever an answer she feared more, it was this.

"I'm not sure," he stammered. "I only heard of her speaking of this a few nights ago. She's been sending you to many different candidates apparently. But, this morning, a messenger arrived with a letter and an offer."

"So that's it," she sank to the couch. "I'm to be sold to the highest bidder, like cattle." She felt bile rise up to her throat and the room became a mess of colors and sounds. She knew what life awaited her as a mistress. Thankless, empty, a half life. But most of all, she would lose what she cherished most of all, her freedom.

"But don't worry, Belle, I promise that this will not happen. We can fight this." Joshua grabbed his book and hat. "I'm going to come up with a plan today and I will come back tomorrow morning." He embraced her, kissed her on the cheek, and left. She didn't so much as utter a syllable. She felt paralyzed. No matter what she did, she wouldn't ever be able to escape her past, Madame Cornette, or her mistakes. She would never truly be free.

The entire day ticked by slowly, but gradually. She hadn't spoken a word all day. The events of her life played in repeat inside her head. Arabelle found herself on the roof, watching the sky, a bottle of scotch, almost empty, in her hands. She could fight this, like she always did. But she was tired, she was so tired. No matter how hard she fought, how smart she became, how she changed her surroundings, she would never be rid of the terrible choices she had made as a stupid teenage girl. And those choices have and will continue to cost her dearly.

The pain was taking a large toll on her, body and soul. It was all just too much. Arabelle chugged the last of the scotch and stood, walking towards the edge of the roof. She spread her arms, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She wished she was a bird, so she could fly far away.

The wind rushed over her face and arms gently, weaving between her fingers. She wanted so badly to get away from everything. But circumstances have proved that that was never going to be a possibility.

A hand gently slid down her arm and over her hand, entwining its fingers with hers. Another hand repeated the motion with her other arm. Lips gently brushed against her neck. She wanted to fall to pieces right then, collapse and cry until there wasn't a single tear left in her body.

"What are you doing, little bird," Erik whispered to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and pushed back tears.

"Thinking," she whispered back, her voice gravelly. He continued to kiss her neck gently, attempting to calm her, but it made her more anxious.

"About what?"

"Jumping," she looked at her feet, standing on the edge, and kicked a piece of gravel. It was a long way down.

"Even if you try, I won't let you," she takes this as a challenge and takes a quick step over the edge, but he grabs her waist before she has a chance to even fall an inch and carries her to the doorway, she fights and screams the entire way. He sets her down and pushes her up against the wall.

"Are you insane?" He yells at her. "Why would you do that?" She doesn't look at him, nor does she answer. He grabs her face and forces it to look at him. She glares and clenches her jaw.

"Answer me, Arabelle," he demands sternly. She still refuses to answer. He scoffs, releases his grip and walks off. "I do everything for you, yet you still won't even give me the decency of the truth." He growls. "I suppose that not even I am good enough for you. If you don't care to see me anymore, all you need to do is say it!"

She continues to lean against the door, tears fall slowly at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm being sold," Arabelle says quietly, without a trace of anger in her voice. Erik turns and looks at her, sudden guilt emerging onto his face.

"Sold?"

"Next week, during her Masque," Arabelle cleared her throat, pushing away to shakiness of her voice. "Cornette is going to sell me to the highest bidder. I'll become a mistress."

"So you were just going to give up?"

"I'm tired," her answer makes Erik scoff and spit.

"That's no excuse," he sneers and shakes his head in disappointment. "I thought you were stronger than that." Arabelle goes into a tearful rage with his words, intending to defend herself and her excuse.

"I have been fighting since I was eight years old! I've had to fight for everything since my father died. I have done everything to ensure my freedom and independence! Done everything to escape my past! But nothing changes. No matter how hard I fight, no matter what I do, it's never enough! There hasn't been a single moment in the past thirteen years when I've stopped!

"I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. I don't eat, or sleep. I try everything I can, but in the end, it's all for shit. I've tried absolutely everything I can possibly think of, but still I end up in the worst possible position. You don't know what it does to you. Every day I see my mistakes, I see my father's death, I see what I've become. It tears away your entire being, kills you. I've fought for so long, that I have no energy left in me to fight. So don't you dare tell me that I have no excuse!" Arabelle screams at him through a veil of tears. Everything flashes before her eyes and she's on the ground hyperventilating, rocking herself back and forth.

"I just want to fall asleep and never wake up."

"But you cannot. You have to face what you've done. You cannot out run your past, Arabelle, you have to keep fighting."

"But I can't, I can't," she mutters through heavy tears, shaking her head.

"You have too," Erik wipes away her tears. "Or else all the fighting you have done is for nothing, your life is for nothing."

They sat there for hours as Arabelle spilt every tear she had held in since her father's death; Erik sat there in silence, just being there for her. Although he never said it, Erik understood how she felt, too well, actually. But, he couldn't give up, especially now that he had her. He found a reason to keep trying. She just needed to find hers, before it was too late.

Joshua arrived the next morning in too cheery of spirits but, his cheery disposition faded upon seeing Erik in the room. The two locked glares instantly. Arabelle ignored the boy's mental measurement game and went on to Joshua's brilliant plan.

"So, tell me this brilliant plan of yours, dear friend,"

"Well," said Joshua, "I bought us two train tickets to Spain!"

"No," Erik said flatly, his arms crossed over his chest. Joshua scoffed and stomped towards him.

"And what honestly makes you think you have a say in this? Who are you anyway?" Arabelle separated them and then explained to Joshua that Erik was a friend, someone who has helped her greatly the past couple of months. Joshua didn't like Erik, not a bit. He found him arrogant and proud, maybe a little vain.

"Joshua, I have to agree with Erik. It isn't a good idea."

"Why, in heaven's name, not?"

"Because, I'll just be running, and I may not be able to get out alive next time. This needs to end, once and for all."

"Then, pray tell, what shall we do?" Joshua asks sarcastically. "Her party is in less than a week. All of her customers will be there. The Judge, the Chief of Police, the Magistrate, all of her financiers! We have to do something," A wicked thought spun through her mind, just then.

"Yes, you're quite right. They will all be there," she smiled decadently. Erik and Joshua looked at one another confused, trying to see if the other knew what she was thinking. Suddenly, Arabelle burst into hysterical laughter.

"She's gone mad!" Joshua exclaimed. "What on Earth are you going on about?"

"I know how to do it," she gasped between laughs. "I know how to take Cornette down and fix everything!" And boy, was it going to be fun, she laughed to herself.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update. A lot of things happened this past year that made it near impossible for me to write and update. But I'm back and I'm working on updates! This chapter may have a few typos, sorry for that. It was rushed because I wanted to update. I've had the ending hashed out for a while and now all I have to do is type it up. It's going to be in four chapters (hopefully) and an Epilogue. Again, I greatly apologize for taking so very long to update, but I promise consistency from here on out! Lee and Erik's story will be tied up!**

**Sincerely,**

**Luce, your Surly Mermaid**


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